


This Fire, It Consumes Us

by kradam_12321 (kay_elizabeth_roxx)



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: French Characters, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-30
Updated: 2011-06-09
Packaged: 2017-10-19 22:31:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_elizabeth_roxx/pseuds/kradam_12321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kristopher Allen, a simple farm worker, wants nothing more than to return home to his mother in England. But, when he is hired by the royal family, he finds himself trapped in a seductive game of cat-and-mouse...by none other than Adam Lambert, heir to the throne. Tired of Kristopher's resistance, the Prince proposes a high-stakes bet--one that Kristopher cannot refuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The French in this story was translated by snow_cherries over at LJ.  
> I don't claim this to have historical accuracy.

  
Prologue   


  
 

Kristopher remembers the day as vividly as if he'd relived it a thousand times over. He had been merely sixteen then, young and innocent wrapped in his mother's farewell embrace.

  
 

“You'll come back to me, Kristopher,” she had murmured, and, at the time, the words had held no special significance. He was only crossing the Channel into France—why in the world would he not return? He was simply selling his services as a farm hand to a respectable Englishman that had moved his trade there. Unless the Lord struck him down in the fields, he would return later with the skills and the money they needed to rebuild their farm.

  
 

If only he had foreseen the blue-eyed devil lurking in the shadowed folds of his future, he may have had the good sense to run.

  
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  
 

Kristopher pulled back his blanket and slid into bed, sighing at the sticky friction of his sleeping clothes against him. It was well past dusk, and he was far too tired to haul water for a bath—he'd barely dragged himself over to wash his face in the basin. Well, it wasn't the first time he had slept dirty, anyway. Such was the life of a farmer, he supposed.

  
 

He was newly 21, at the prime of his youth. That fresh strength and endurance was currently being expended in the fields, from dawn to dusk every day. It was hard work, work that put muscles on his young bones and calluses on his hands. 

  
 

All in all, however, Kristopher really had nothing to complain about—he had good, honest work, and the pay was enough that he could support his mother back in England. That was what ached the worst, during the nights sleep eluded him—France was pretty and sort of quaint, but he had always perceived a kind of snobbish falsity behind the lacquered cities. He yearned to return to his mother and his home country. His one motivation to work through the endless days was the fact that he _would_ return, in a matter of years—he would return home to his farm, to the land that had ran barren since his father had died.

  
 

He put his thoughts to rest and settled back into the lumpy mattress beneath him, and just as his eyes slipped shut, the door to his room cracked open, spilling a thin beam of candlelight across the worn, wooden floor.

  
 

“Kristopher?” a voice asked, quietly, and he opened his eyes once again, sitting up in bed. The voice belonged to James, the head of the plantation—he was an old friend of Kristopher's family, and the man his mother had originally sent him off with.

  
 

“Yes?” Kristopher answered, throwing the covers off his legs and swinging them over the side of the bed.

  
 

“Don't bother getting up,” James said, poking his head in through the door and gazing at him. “I'm just giving you instructions for tomorrow, boy. Get up as usual, but don't head out into the fields—we have company coming. Bathe and dress your best. There's quite an opportunity awaiting you.”

  
 

“All right,” Kristopher agreed, sliding back under his thin blanket as the door snapped shut again. An opportunity? He must have been speaking of a noble come to recruit servants. 

  
 

Despite his English heritage, James had moved to France as a young man, and now owned one of the largest plantations in the region. He often had more help than was necessary, and was frequently approached by other farm owners looking for workers—even Dukes, sometimes. 

  
 

A job with a Duke or major land owner nearer to Paris would certainly pay more, but Kristopher was content to stay here in the company of a familiar Englishman. He had only seen small sections of France, and was quite content to keep it that way.

  
 

~

  
 

Adam sighed and leaned back against the plush upholstery of his carriage, closing his eyes. Of course _he_ would be stuck with this tedious task—as if the _héritier_ of the King didn't have more important things to attend to in Paris? 

  
 

They could have at least sent Bradley, or someone—but no, here was the heir to the royal throne, off to recruit servants. 

  
 

“ _Nous sommes arrivés à destination, Monseigneur,_ ”a voice called from the front of the carriage—they had arrived. 

  
 

Ah, James Abbott's plantation. He had provided many a servant for the royal family. He taught his laborers in the ways of hard work and obedience—qualities much glorified by Adam's family when it came to servants.

  
 

“ _Bien,”_ Adam airily replied, as the coachman opened the door for him. “Let us go and choose a few servants, _oui?”_

  
 

Adam set off with a member of the _Garde du Corps_ in tow, heading towards the low-slung structure in front of him whilst his coachman tied up the horses. He barely noticed the presence of the guards anymore—they were silent and watchful.

  
 

He was met at the door by James Abbott himself. The tall, muscled man bowed at his approach, dressed simply but tastefully.

  
 

“ _Bonjour, Monseigneur,_ _”_ he greeted, and Adam laughed, shaking his hand.

  
 

“You still try and impress me with your French,Englishman?” he chuckled, entering the large home as James stepped aside. James may have been an Englishman, but he was one of the few respectable ones Adam had so far come into contact with. 

  
 

“Of course, Sire,” James replied, the lines in his face deepening as he smiled. “I'm always looking to improve.”

  
 

“Certainly,” Adam said, looking around the area. The furniture was well-kept, but sparse, and clean light filtered in through the windows. A few maids were bustling quietly about the kitchen, preparing the evening meal.

  
 

“Would you care to stay for supper?” James asked, gesturing to the large kitchens. “You could evaluate my staff then, if you like.”

  
 

“ _Merci,”_ Adam thanked him, “but I must head back for Paris soon. I've only come to find myself a few working hands.”

  
 

“As you wish,” James agreed. “Allow me to gather them.”

  
 

At James' call, the maids in the kitchen dropped their work and stood before Adam, curtsying shyly. A moment later, a group of men whom Adam assumed to be the field workers joined them, bowing to him.

  
 

“ _Bon après-midi,”_ Adam greeted them all, watching as they cast their eyes respectfully towards the floor. 

  
 

He paused, then, quickly scanning the group. “Good, good.... Go about your work, ladies and gentlemen. I'll take a stroll and observe.”

  
 

The maids and field hands all nodded and dispersed, the woman returning to their work in the kitchen as the men filtered out the door and into the fields. Adam's gaze lingered on the last man to leave—his shoulders were strong, and he carried himself with pride. Adam wished he would turn so he could see his face...but there would be plenty of time for that later.

  
 

“Do you wish for me to accompany you?” James asked, and Adam nodded, starting off.

  
 

He observed the maids for a few minutes as they made dinner, bustling about. None caught his eye as particularly astute at their work, although that could be due to the farm hand lingering in the back of his mind.

  
 

“To the fields, then,” Adam said, after a few more minutes, trotting out into the heat of the mid-day sun. His eyes canvassed routinely over the men as they worked, until they caught upon the young one Adam had spotted earlier.

  
 

Something clenched low in Adam's belly. His profile was alight for him, bracketed by glistening beads of sweat as he worked. His soft-looking brown hair was unruly in the light breeze, and he paused to blow a strand out of his face, full lips puckering. His body was slim but compact, biceps straining as he toiled—he was absolutely divine. No man had inspired this reaction in him for a long while, and Adam couldn't tear his gaze away.

  
 

“That one.... What's his name?” Adam asked, and James squinted against the sun, gazing over at the man in question.

  
 

“Ah, that's Kristopher Allen,” James said, nodding. “He's an Englishman as well.... His mother still lives there. He's been with me since he was 16—he's a fine, hard worker.” 

  
 

“I'd like to speak with him,” Adam announced, and James nodded once, looking over at the boy for a minute.

  
 

“I'll be sad to see him go,” James admitted, “but I'll send him in to meet you. Only him?”

  
 

“Yes.... Only him,” Adam confirmed, giving Kristopher one last glance before turning and heading back into the house. 

  
 

~

  
 

“Kristopher,” James called, once Adam had gone, beckoning him out of the fields. “Prince Lambert would like to speak with you inside.”

  
 

Kristopher's eyes widened, and he looked helplessly up at James, throat working. “But, James.... He wants _me?_ You know I only wish to work for you....”

  
 

“He asked to speak with you, and only you,” James said, simply, “So draw whatever conclusions you will.”

  
 

He paused, then, leaning closer to Kristopher and laying a hand on his shoulder. “But, between you and me, son, you would be a fool not to take the offer, if he poses you it. The royal family can pay you far, far more than I'm able to.”

  
 

“I know, but—” Kristopher started, his protest cut off by James' raised hand.

  
 

“The prince is waiting, boy,” he said, waving him towards the house. “Go and meet him.”

  
 

Kristopher obeyed, looking back only once as he timidly slipped in the front door to meet his fate.

  
 

Adam Lambert was an imposing figure, even standing at ease and gazing out the window—he stood tall and broad-shouldered, looking oddly out of place in their humble sitting room. He was clad from head to toe in silk and fine embroidery, from his breeches to his light topcoat. 

  
 

His hair was inky black and a tad bit long, framing his fine patrician features. He was a very handsome man, Kris had to admit—he had looks befitting of a prince. His guard stood unobtrusively a few feet further away, gazing at nothing in particular.

  
 

“Ah.... _Bonjour,_ _”_ Adam greeted, looking up and meeting Kristopher's eyes with his own deep blue ones. “Kristopher?”

  
 

“Yes,” Kristopher confirmed, dropping his eyes and bowing slightly. It was disconcerting to have royalty staring you so bluntly in the eyes—the nobility had always seemed so distant and untouchable to him. Certainly not men that mingled with farm workers in the countryside. He supposed this was some mundane side-duty; he'd never heard of a prince coming to recruit farm hands.

  
 

“James told you why I called for you, yes?” he asked, and Kristopher nodded, waiting for him to continue.

  
 

Adam smiled lightly, beckoning him away from the door. 

  
 

“Come closer, darling,” he flippantly teased. “I won't bite you. Let's talk about what I'm asking.”

  
 

“All right,” Kristopher agreed, flushing a little in embarrassment and following Adam to one of the two chairs.

  
 

“I watched you in the fields,” Adam started, “And you stood out amongst the others. Your work with my family would be a bit different from what you're accustomed to here—you'd attend to the gardens, and what crops our estate grows itself. Payment would be addressed with my parents in Paris, but I assure you it would be most generous.”

  
 

He paused once he had finished, leisurely steepling his fingers and letting Kristopher think. Kristopher bit his lip and averted his eyes, considering. He didn't know how to react to this man—there was something mildly unsettling about his gaze. But that aside, the pay would be three, maybe even four times more than what he earned here...and his mother back home could use the extra help, he was sure. The added wages would serve to get him home to England faster than if he stayed here, at any rate.

  
 

“Okay,” Kristopher finally agreed, after a long minute of deliberation, looking back up into the piercing blue eyes that had never left his face. Something fluttered nervously in Kristopher's stomach, and his words faltered. “I—I would be honored to work for your estate, Sire.”

  
 

A pleased smile curved Adam's full, sensual lips, and he shifted to stand again, drawing himself to his full, impressive height.

  
 

“ _Merveilleux—nous devons partir dans ce cas,_ ”he exclaimed in lilting French, gesturing around the space. “We have no time to linger about—Gather your things, and we will leave within an hour. Life is faster paced in dear Paris _,_ Kristopher.”

  
 

“I'm sure it is, Sire,” Kristopher agreed, bowing again as unexplained anxiety simmered low in his stomach.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Adam stood aside as Kristopher said his goodbyes to James and his fellow workers, watching him as he left the group with one last wave. The coachman had already taken his one small bag and stowed it away. James had kindly gifted him with a horse as a token of his respect—it was a fine beast, now tied behind the great spoked wheels of his carriage. 

 

Adam could detect the nervousness lingering in Kristopher's chocolaty brown eyes, despite the erect set of his shoulders. His face was flushed slightly, which only brought to mind the image of how those cheeks would redden if he kissed him. Adam wondered what he had gotten himself into by hiring this boy...and if his interests would ultimately send Kristopher running from Paris in terror.

 

“Now, just climb up here with me, _monsieur_ ,” the coachman said, beckoning Kristopher up once he'd shut the carriage door for Adam. 

 

“He'll sit with me, I think,” Adam quickly corrected, ignoring the brief look of surprise from both of them. Kristopher, the doll, looked quite intimidated.

 

“ _À votre discrétion, S_ ire,” the coachman bowed, quickly catching himself and opening the door for Kristopher, who awkwardly climbed into the plush carriage.

 

Kristopher settled against the opposite wall from him as the horses plodded forward, shooting a questioning glance over at him. “Um, was there something you wanted to speak with me about, Sire?”

 

“No,” Adam smiled, “I only wanted to sit with you for a while. There's no need to be intimidated, Kristopher—you'll meet people far more prestigious than me in Paris.”

 

Adam paused, then, looking thoughtfully over at him. “And in private, call me Adam, _s'il vous plaît.”_ His lips quirked. “Sire is too stiff.... It makes me feel like an old man.”

 

“You're nothing of the kind...Adam,” Kristopher replied, a little shyly, and Adam smiled, trying not to look predatory about it.

 

This was going to be a very long ride.

 

~

 

They arrived in Paris late that evening, and Adam stepped out of the carriage in front of the palace with a smile, gazing up at it.

 

“The home of my _famille,”_ Adam announced, gesturing towards the grand, brightly lit palace before them. “My father and mother will have already retired to bed, I'm sure; we will have to discuss the terms of your employment tomorrow.”

 

The guards stationed at the great wooden doors nodded respectfully, and Adam watched Kristopher's face with amusement as they entered the Grand Hall. His eyes were wide with astonishment as he stared around at the shining marble floors and rich tapestries, his slight form frozen in the entryway.

 

“Come, Kristopher,” Adam laughed, laying a hand against the small of his back. “Let's find someone to show you to your chambers.”

 

Kristopher nodded, but subtly edged away from his touch, obviously unused to such casually intimate touches. _Lord,_ could he be a virgin as well—? 

 

Adam had to cut off his thoughts before things could progress any further. At this rate, he'd have his lovely little morsel running for the hills before he even got a chance to taste those delectable, cherry-red lips.

 

“Ah, Cécile!” Adam exclaimed, beckoning his most senior maid over and speaking to her in rapid French. _“Voudriez-vous bien guider Kristopher vers sa chambre, s'il vous plaît? Il est le nouveau venu au palais.”_

 

“ _Certainement, votre Altesse,”_ she replied in a pretty melodic voice, dipping her head in respect, and Adam turned back to Kristopher, waving him over.

 

“This is Cécile,” Adam introduced, unable to resist laying a hand on Kristopher's arm. His palms were honestly magnetized, drawn to his body. “She doesn't speak English, but she will show you to your room.”

 

“ _Il ne parle point français... Il se perdrait facilement ici,”_ Adam said to the girl, a teasing quirk to his lips. _“Soyez certaine de garder un oeil sur lui.”_

 

Cécile just smiled a little, waiting for Kristopher. 

 

“Were you making fun of me?” Kristopher asked him, face suspicious, and Adam laughed, waving away his comment.

 

“Just informing her that you're an Englishman, _petit amour_ ,” Adam replied, grinning widely. “Go with her now. I'll see you in the morning.”

 

He watched Kristopher leave with fond eyes, before turning around, only to find Duke Bell watching him from across the hall.

 

“ _Bonjour,”_ Adam greeted, approaching him and grinning indulgently. “Were you spying on me, love?”

 

“Spying,” Bradley replied, waving a dismissive hand. “Pah _._ But I did see you staring intently at that little thing you brought home—is he the newest servant?”

 

“ _Oui,”_ Adam confirmed, “I found him at James Abbot's plantation. He's an Englishman.”

 

“And are you speaking his language just to please him, then?” Bradley said, lips quirked a little mockingly, and Adam had the dim thought that Bradley was about the only person in France brave enough to antagonize the heir to the throne.

 

“ _Non...._ The guards don't need to hear everything,” Adam said, ushering him into the great, high ceilinged dining room. 

 

“You're quite enraptured, aren't you?” Bradley said, amusement sparkling in his eyes, and Adam bit back his pride, nodding once.

 

“You often attend to these things when you're here, don't you?” Adam asked, bluntly, running his fingertips along the spotless tabletop before him and meeting the other man's gaze. “I know how you amuse yourself with our visiting nobles and desirable servants. I want him brought to my bedchamber tomorrow night.”

 

“ _Oh là là...._ Does he know what you have planned for him?” Bradley asked, and Adam glared at him.

 

“I have nothing _planned for him,_ dearest,” Adam replied, “But no, I don't think he's aware of my...other interests. I have to admit; I barely paid attention to the quality of his work when I chose him.”

 

“ _Ah,_ so he's _that_ kind of servant, then,” Bradley cheekily cut in, and Adam sent a full-fledged death-stare in his direction.

 

“ _Non!”_ he exclaimed. “He shall be a working hand as he was there. But, my interest does expand beyond that, I'll admit. Arrange for him to be brought to me tomorrow evening.”

 

“I'll make sure it goes smoothly, Sire,” Bradley said, bowing with an over-dramatic sweep of his arms. “I hope you'll enjoy yourself.”

 

Adam paused, fighting a grin. “I should have you whipped for that kind of disrespect, you know.”

 

“You wouldn't,” Bradley stated, giving a sweet, confident smile. “We have a past, darling.”

 

“And so that comes back to haunt me again....” Adam sighed, turning to leave. _“Bonne nuit, espèce d'idiot!”_

 

“Goodnight to you too!” Bradley called back, his laughter following Adam out.

 

~

 

Kristopher stumbled away from behind the archway just in time to avoid being spotted by Adam, dashing back into the columned hallway from which he'd come. He garnered many a surprised look from the guards and maids he barreled past, but he ignored them all, focused solely on finding his way back through the labyrinth to his bedchamber.

 

He skidded around a corner, almost collapsing in relief as he recognized the doorway in front of him. The door was shut behind him a moment later, and he slumped back against it, eyes wide.

 

He had only returned to ask Adam what time he should wake tomorrow, and _that_ was what he had found? The conversation seemed to be seared into his mind—he hadn't had a clue that Adam carried on such relations with men. He was a _prince,_ for god's sake; that subject was taboo in polite society as it was!

 

The next few lines of banter between the small man and Adam had made him tense, anger rising thick in his throat. He'd understood every word; they were speaking plain enough English.... He was to be sent to Adam, to his _bed,_ like a common prostitute, or one of his harem.

 

The deceit settled into his chest like bitter bile, souring his expression. His work hadn't even been considered in his hiring—he was a plaything to the prince, was he not? A “little thing” to be used how Adam pleased. The warm manners and charm Adam had exhibited were soon forgotten in the wake of Kristopher's fury, and he slumped down into his soft bed, head pounding.

 

How would he escape this place? Leaving before his official hiring tomorrow morning would be impossible...as was refusing the job in front of the King and Queen. The penalty for that would, in all likelihood, end up being stiffer than Kristopher was willing to risk.

 

Which left him the option to face Adam, and demand that he be sent back to James....but it would happen in Adam's bedchamber, on his terms. Kristopher buried his face into the pillow, huffing angrily. 

 

That lying bastard wouldn't have his body or his respect; not for as long as he lived.


	3. Chapter 3

Kristopher turned his face away from Adam as soon as he spotted him early the next morning, forcing his expression into one of flat indifference. The smile that had stirred up unfamiliar emotions in his chest yesterday now only raised his hackles.

  
 

“Did you sleep well, Kristopher?” Adam asked, approaching him with his eyebrows slightly drawn down in confusion. It was at times like this that Kristopher wished he had a less expressive face.

  
 

“Yes, Sire,” Kristopher said, quietly, and Adam's face fell further into concern, a thin line appearing between his eyebrows. The expression looked out of place there, on his normally cheerful face.

  
 

“Are you sure—?” Adam asked, laying a hand on his arm, and Kristopher pulled away from his touch just as they were beckoned to enter the hall in which the king was waiting.

  
 

The signing of the papers and introductions went by swiftly. The queen only smiled and greeted him in French—she, unlike her husband, knew only her home language. The king spoke English well, but with a throaty accent—one that Kristopher couldn't help but compare to Adam's sweet, melodic one. 

  
 

Kristopher hurried out as soon as he were dismissed, heading for the gardens before Adam could stop him. He would delay being alone with that man for as long as he could.

  
 

~

  
 

It was 7:00, by the small, ornate clock hanging on his wall, and Kristopher was beginning to hope that Adam wasn't going to call for him. Of course, he had no such luck, and there was a soft knock on his door a few minutes later.

  
 

“Yes?” he called, tightly, and Scarlet, one of the few maids that spoke English, entered, hands clasped behind her back.

  
 

“Ah.... Duke Bell said you are to report to the prince's chambers,” she said, her accent soft. “I can bring you.”

  
 

“All right,” Kristopher sighed, standing and glancing briefly at his clothes, smeared with dirt and sweat from a day's work. Well, only the best for _his highness._

  
 

“ _Par ici,”_ Scarlet said, stopping before a large double doorway at the end of an endless maze of hallways. “ _Au revoir,_ Kristopher.”

  
 

With that, she slipped away, and Kristopher was left standing before the proverbial lion's den. He stiffened his shoulders and entered firmly, however, refusing to be afraid of such a man.

  
 

His anger was stoked the moment he stepped past the threshold, as it was. Adam was sitting leisurely in one of the large chaise lounges ringing the fireplace, looking at ease. Kristopher barely glanced at the splendor of the huge space—his curiosity was butchered the moment his eyes fell upon the massive, four-poster bed dominating the center of the room.

  
 

“ _Bonsoir,_ Kristopher,” Adam greeted him, full lips curving up into a smile. “How was your first day here at our palace?”

  
 

“Why did you call me here, Sire?” Kristopher asked in return, quiet but blunt, and Adam's eyebrows raised the slightest bit. 

  
 

“Just to talk with you for a while, _chéri,”_ Adam replied, patting the empty space beside him on the lounge. “Come and sit with me.”

  
 

Kristopher silently obeyed, walking slowly towards him. And the worst part of it all, maybe, was how he could _still_ appreciate his natural attractiveness—his legs were stretched long and lean out in front of him, his slim, firm waist defined in fine, pearly-white silk.

 

“Would you like a drink?” Adam asked, gesturing towards the two crystal glasses sitting upon the small table in front of them, previously unnoticed. They were filled with fragrant, dark red liquid, and Adam picked one of them up in his long fingers, offering it to him. “France makes the finest wine you'll ever taste.”

  
 

Kristopher took the long-stemmed glass without a word, sipping slowly. The sweet, slightly bitter red liquid stained his lips and slid warmly down his throat, and he caught Adam staring fixedly at his mouth and the curve of his neck, tongue slipping out to wet his bottom lip.

  
 

“Sire?” Kristopher questioned, pointedly, and Adam's eyes snapped back up to his face, crinkling apologetically. 

  
 

“ _Pardonne-moi,_ Kristopher.... I had meant to be less forward about this,” Adam said, smiling lightly. “But....”

  
 

He paused, then, his eyes heavy-lidded as he shifted to face him. “Has anyone ever told you what a handsome man you are, Kristopher? _J'ai tant envie de toi, mon chéri_ **...** You make me want.”

  
 

“I don't take part in such abnormalities,” Kristopher said, stiffly, wishing the man beside him would move away, but Adam only chuckled lowly, unoffended.

  
 

“The look in your eyes when you met with me yesterday says otherwise, dearest,” Adam pointed out, and Kristopher's lips thinned, his body tensing in reply to the words.

  
 

“Relax, _Christophe,”_ Adam purred, his eyes the deep, sultry blue of the sea as his fingers purposefully caressed his knee, wandering up his thigh. “It's nothing to be ashamed of. Let me show you how much my touch can please you.”

  
 

Kristopher snapped away from the foreign touch faster than the release of a bowstring, his eyes blazing.

  
 

“My name is _Kristopher,”_ he spat, detesting the French name as it was applied to him, but Adam unabashedly nuzzled closer, breathing against the soft, salty flesh of his throat.

  
 

“ _Kristopher._ ”

  
 

Kristopher swelled with fury, and he shoved Adam away, a hand raising to crack across his face before he could stop himself.

  
 

The slap of his palm against the other man's cheek was startlingly loud, and Adam rocked back a few inches, surprised more than hurt as he touched his red-hot cheek.

  
 

Kristopher sprang to his feet, face flushed with anger at Adam and mild embarrassment at the fact that he'd just slapped him like a woman. But the point seemed to have gotten across, either way, because Adam was still frozen, ice-blue eyes wide.

  
 

“Don't you dare— I'm not— I'm not the newest member to your harem, bastard!” he spat, low but dangerous, his hands clenched into fists at his side. He knew his disrespect could be severely punished, if Adam wished it so, but, incensed as he was, he didn't give the matter a thought.

  
 

“Kristopher, what—?” Adam started, slowly recovering from his shock, but the smaller man roughly cut him off, still seething.

  
 

“I heard you and that other man speaking in the dining room,” he revealed, and Adam's eyes widened even farther, lips parting in dismay. “I heard you two talking about me as if I was your newest toy. I was hired as a farm hand, goddammit, not a prostitute! I won't be bedded like whatever other whores and wenches you bring here.” 

  
 

“That's not what—“ Adam defended, raising a hand, but Kristopher refused to be calmed.

  
 

“I want to return to James,” he demanded. “Tomorrow.”

  
 

“How will you get there?” Adam asked, eyes inscrutable, and Kristopher shrugged.

  
 

“James gifted you with a horse, did he not?” he said, teeth clenched. “I'll just take it back—it doesn't deserve the fate of staying with the likes of you for the rest of its life, anyway.”

  
 

“You can try,” Adam challenged, eyes shuttered, and Kristopher spun on his heel towards the door, a vase exploding in a shower of glass as he brushed by the table and knocked it to the floor.

  
 

“I will.”

  
 

~

  
 

The next morning, true to his word, Kristopher burst into the stables, ignoring the frightened look the stable boy shot him. He combed over the stalls, quickly finding the one assigned to James' horse. He would ride the thing home bareback; anything at all to get—

  
 

He stopped dead in his tracks halfway through the gate, however, his expression morphing into unrefined shock. The horse was gone, that much was obvious...and, in its place, was the largest, most elaborate bouquet of wildflowers Kristopher had ever seen.

  
 

Pure fury simmered up in his throat, and he blindly struck out, knocking the arrangement off its small stand and onto the dirt. He'd just taken a step forward to stomp them into oblivion when a hand fell onto his arm, pulling him back.

  
 

Kristopher spun around, knowing who had touched him before he even registered the dark hair and pale flesh. He probably would have done the same to Adam as he had the flowers, if only Adam hadn't reached out and wrapped him into his solid, restricting arms.

  
 

“Shh,” Adam shushed him, petting his hair soothingly when he tried to jerk himself out of his grasp. “ _Calme-toi,_ Kristopher.”

  
 

Kristopher craned his neck away from the touch, unable to avoid feeling every inch of the long, solid body pressed up against him. _Lord,_ did this man have no shame?

  
 

“It would be a shame to ruin them, _chéri,_ _”_ Adam murmured, carding his fingers absently through Kristopher's hair. “They're really very beautiful.”

  
 

Kristopher's lips tightened, and he looked over at the bright flowers, strewn forlornly across the dirt and hay. He huffed, abruptly breaking out of Adam's grip and stomping over to them.

  
 

He bent down and swiftly gathered them up, straightening them back into their vase and brushing away the dust from the petals. He straightened with the bundle tucked under his arm, then, face flaming and lips pulled thin.

  
 

“I'm sorry,” Adam said, looking down at the flowers and brushing away a few more streaks of dirt. “But I don't want you to leave. Not yet, at least. I— Would you come to my room again, today?”

  
 

He paused, pinning him with his gray-blue gaze. “I need to apologize for what happened last night.”

  
 

“You can come to mine,” Kristopher flatly stated, and Adam, surprisingly, nodded.

  
 

“All right, Kristopher. I'll come for you later this afternoon. Where is your bedchamber?”

 

“You can find it yourself,” he said, then turned and left, his stomach squirming oddly as he looked down at the bouquet clutched against his chest.

  
 

His cheeks didn't cool for a very, very long time.

  
 

~

  
 

Adam rapped his knuckles softly against the door, prepared for a substantial wait. He knew Kristopher was angry with him for taking away his means of escape, but he at least hoped he wouldn't be reduced to bursting in uninvited. 

  
 

That soft, silky voice eventually called for him to come in, and Adam did, shutting the door behind him. A smile curved his lips—his bouquet was sitting on the table, showing signs of slightly grudging rearrangement.

  
 

Kristopher was perched in the chair beside the bed, alternating between glaring at him and staring silently at the floor. Adam knew he had no right to be amused, be he couldn't help himself—his anger was like that of a feisty little kitten: sweet and endearing.

  
 

He was newly bathed, Adam noticed—his clothes were crisp and fresh, dampness still lingering about the ends of his mussed hair.

  
 

And that only brought to mind the image of him bathing—of water cascading down his strong shoulders and the soft curve of his hips, glistening between his thighs....

  
 

Adam's manhood twitched beneath the fabric of his breeches, and he silently reprimanded himself, taking a seat on the edge of Kristopher's bed. That kind of thing was what he was here to _apologize_ for.

  
 

“ _Bonjour,_ Kristopher,” Adam greeted, softly, and Kristopher regarded him coolly, leaning back in his wooden chair.

  
 

“Sire,” he acknowledged, finally, and Adam frowned.

  
 

“I know you're angry with me, love,” Adam said, “but the formalities are wearing.”

  
 

“Adam,” Kristopher revised, just as emotionless, but Adam took it, leaning forwards and folding his hands.

  
 

“I came to apologize for how I behaved last night,” Adam began, his gray-blue eyes locking with Kristopher's. “I must have forgotten how to be a proper gentleman.  _ Je suis terriblement désolé, mon amour. _ __ I apologize.”

  
 

“So now you'll allow me to leave?” Kristopher asked, folding his arms, and Adam's lips quirked.

  
 

“ _ J'ai bien peur que non, _ _** ” ** _ __ Adam replied, shaking his head. “You shan't leave until you've at least given me a chance.”

  
 

“ _What?”_ Kris spluttered, jumping indignantly to his feet. “Could your apology be any more false, then? To keep me here against my will--”

  
 

“Kristopher, shh,” Adam shushed, catching his hand and holding it between his own. “I sincerely apologize for not being a proper gentleman—courting, of course, comes before the carnal pleasures.”

  
 

Kristopher tried to wrench his hand away, infuriated, but Adam firmly held it, fingers soft against the other man's.

  
 

“Don't fret, my love,” Adam murmured, raising Kristopher's hand to his lips and feathering soft kisses across his knuckles. “I won't take you to my chambers until you're ready—until you want it.”

  
 

“As if that's ever likely to happen,” Kristopher snapped, tugging his hand away, and Adam looked up at him, gaze thoughtful.

  
 

“Shall we make a deal, then?” Adam proposed, and Kristopher raised one questioning, slender eyebrow. 

  
 

Adam smiled, looking up at him from under his thick, black lashes. “Let me court you until the end of the month, Kristopher. Horseback riding, dinner together in the moonlight, kissing you by the pond. And if, by the end of the month, you aren't begging for my kisses and caresses, you may have your freedom. I'll even pay your way back home to England, if you so desire.”

  
 

“It's a deal,” Kristopher said, almost immediately, shaking the hand Adam offered to him to seal the agreement. “This will no doubt be the most easily won bet I've ever engaged in.”

  
 

Adam smiled mischievously, tugging Kristopher forward by the hand he still held. He stretched up where he sat, then, breathing the words not but an inch from his soft, slightly moist lips.

  
 

“We'll see,” he murmured, his eyes heavy-lidded, and Kris tensed, breath rough against his mouth.

  
 

Adam pulled back before the temptation could overwhelm him, a secret thrill shuddering up his spine as he noticed the new, slightly hazy cast to Kristopher's brown eyes.

  
 

“It's time for me to leave you, now,” Adam said, fingertips skipping along his sharp jaw line. “ _ Au revoir,  _ Kristopher.”

  
 

He stood up and turned to leave, then, looking back over his shoulder only once with a playful twist to his mouth.

  
 

“Sleep well, my darling, and dream of me.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

Adam strolled through the gardens at a leisurely pace, keeping an eye out for a certain farm hand. He found him soon enough—he was bent over tending to the sweet, fragrant roses, sweat beading at his temples.

Adam didn't draw attention to himself immediately, instead raking his eyes luxuriously down the muscular lines of Kristopher's body, clad in stiff linen. His long years of hard work had gifted him with a gorgeous figure—one Adam would love to see bare in his bedchamber, candlelight flickering across the shifting, sweat-slicked flesh....

Adam cleared his throat, and Kristopher turned around at the unexpected sound, looking blankly over at him.

 _"Bonjour,"_ Adam said, dipping his head in greeting. "Have you been enjoying the gardens?"

"They're lovely," Kristopher grudgingly admitted, folding his arms. "Are you just out for a stroll, or have you come to antagonize me further?"

"Antagonize?" Adam repeated, taking Kristopher's hand in his and bringing it to his lips. _“Non, mon chéri._ I wouldn't do such a thing. I've only come to escort you on our first outing together."

  
"Well, I'm afraid I must decline," Kristopher said, attempting to draw back his hand. "I have work to do."

"Come now, darling," Adam smiled, laying Kristopher's stubborn hand against his cheek, "That's not honoring our deal. I'm releasing you from the rest of your work today."

Kristopher sighed. "Fine. Where are you taking me, then?"

"A little spot I know of, tucked away in the garden," Adam replied. "Very few people visit it."

He paused, looking down at Kristopher and pressing a soft kiss to the palm of his hand. "And I won't even hold your hand, if you don't wish me to."

Kristopher flushed and pulled his arm away, lowering his eyes and following Adam down the path.

Adam slowly led them through the gardens, mind swirling with thoughts of the man trudging along beside him. If a single kiss to his palm could make him redden, Adam could imagine what one placed on those soft, pink lips would reduce him to.

They came through a small grove of trees, emerging at the edge of a pond. Adam led them along a narrow stone footpath, then, to a small, ornate gazebo tucked away against the shore.

A picnic basket was already tucked away inside from his earlier preparations, and Adam motioned for Kristopher to sit on the wooden bench as he retrieved it and prepared the wine.

Adam handed Kristopher his glass, filled with dark scarlet liquid, and he sipped it slowly, looking out at the small pond.

Bees hummed lazily about the wildflowers, and Adam sipped his drink contentedly, ears filled with the low croak of bullfrogs. The pond was glassy and still, its surface disrupted only by the swaying reeds.

"Isn't this a gorgeous sight?" Adam asked, laying his hand on Kristopher's arm.

"It's nice," he agreed, eyes indecipherable. "But it doesn't compare to my home in England."

"You're mother is there, _oui?"_ Adam asked, and Kristopher nodded.

"I'll come home to her and the farm as soon as I've won this bet,” Kristopher stated, sounding convicted that his victory was on the horizon. Adam chose to let that one slide without comment.

"Isn't your father there to oversee the farm?" Adam asked, and Kristopher's face went suddenly expressionless, his lips thinning.

“He's dead," Kristopher flatly stated, and Adam made a little noise, raising the other man's hand to kiss his inner wrist.  
  
 

“I'm sorry," he murmured, his breath warm against the flesh. “I didn't mean to pry."

“You only mean to keep me here for your own amusement," Kristopher finished, dryly, and Adam nuzzled his face against his knuckles, unabashed.

"I want you," Adam simply said, mouth trailing up his forearm, feeling the muscles straining against his lips. "I want all of you. I can make you fall in love with me, _mon chéri."_

Kristopher snorted. “Fall in love with someone as arrogant as you? I think not. Wine and dine me all you want; you won't woo me like whatever blushing damsels—or dames, as the case may be—that you've taken advantage of before."

“Harsh," Adam said, mildly, before leaning in and whispering into his ear.

  
“You can deny what you feel, darling," he murmured, smoothing a hand against his jaw, “But I see what lingers in your gaze. I'll still be the first man to taste your lips."

Kristopher's breath hitched, his entire body taut with tension, and then Adam's tenuous self-control was snapping, his hand curving around the back of Kristopher's neck.

He tilted his face and pressed his mouth against Kristopher's, tasting the firm, moist curve of his lips. He tasted sweetly of wine, and Adam sighed, pulling him closer.

Kristopher gasped and started, his wine glass overbalancing, and Adam jumped back too late to avoid the cascade of crimson liquid.

Kristopher spluttered, watching the red stain spread across Adam's shirt. Adam winced and pulled at the cloth, feeling it settle stickily against his flesh.

"No more wine for you, then," Adam laughed, taking Kristopher's glass and setting it aside along with his own. "At least not while I'm kissing you."

"I.... I didn't—" Kristopher stammered, before quickly clamping his mouth shut, eyes wide and cheeks flaming.

"Was that going to be an 'I didn't mean to'?" Adam asked, raising a teasing eyebrow and setting his stained coat aside. "Hmmm, so one kiss flustered the blushing damsel into spilling his drink?"

"No!" Kristopher protested, flushing a shade darker, "I did that on _purpose!_ "

"Oooh," Adam smiled, amused. "So _that_ explains it. Does repulsion often cause you to spill things? I'll have to keep that in mind."

  
"You're lucky I didn't throw the entire thing in your face!" Kristopher shot back, and Adam restrained himself from leaning in to taste that delicious blush. 

Adam laid a finger against Kristopher's lips, smirking a little. "I've _unsettled_ you, the unswayable Kristopher Allen! Want another taste, darling?"

"I don't kiss men!" Kristopher exclaimed, jerking away from the touch, and Adam laughed a little, smiling indulgently.

"You just did," Adam pointed out, tongue slipping out to wet his bottom lip. "And got rather flustered, at that."

"I spilled it on _purpose_ so you would _stop!”_ Kristopher insisted, his reddened lips puckering. "I didn't _like_ it! Christ!"

"Whatever you say, love," Adam grinned, standing up and gathering their things, shirt clinging wetly to his chest. "I'd better get you back to the palace before you have the opportunity to ruin any more of my things."

He started off, keeping his laughter in check as Kristopher followed behind with his arms crossed, brooding silently.

~

Adam escorted Kristopher to his room, pausing outside the door and facing him. He nearly laughed at the look on Kristopher's face: fraught with anxiety and displeasure, his sweet cherry lips pulled tight, still flushed with kisses and wine.

"That was quite the unconventional outing, love," Adam chuckled, raising his hand to softly kiss his knuckles. "But I very much enjoyed it. I'll come for you again soon."

"Goodbye," Kristopher hastily mumbled, already turning the doorknob, but Adam paused him with a hand on the small of his back.

  
"May I kiss you goodnight?" Adam murmured, lips a mere inch away, and Kristopher backed himself hurriedly through the door, eyes wide.

"No!" Kristopher exclaimed, and then the door was shutting in Adam's face, leaving him to laugh silently to himself.

~

  
 

Walking around the palace made Kristopher uneasy. He much preferred working in the garden, where there was always a bush or tree nearby to duck behind. Not that he'd actually been _doing_ that, but....

  
 

All right, maybe he had once. Or twice. Just to avoid...some people, of course. But who could blame him? 

  
 

And he _had_ spilled that wine on purpose, dammit.

  
 

An odd sensation wriggled down his spine at the thought, and he shivered, largely ignoring it. He would just get out of here before that man could find him—

  
 

“ _Ce plancher est sale! À quoi bon avoir des domestiques s'ils n'arrivent même pas à garder cet endroit--”_

  
 

Kristopher heard the angry, rapid French in tandem with approaching footsteps, and he jumped, looking around for a niche to slip into. It wasn't Adam's voice—too high—but it definitely was....

  
 

Too late. A short, thin man with cat-like features was already striding around the corner, and sinking back against the wall was the best Kristopher could do.

  
 

“ _Vous tous_ —ah,” the man started, pausing as he recognized Kristopher. He smirked a little, then, infuriatingly.

  
 

“So, you are the newest addition to the prince's collection?” the richly-dressed man asked, in heavily-accented English. Kristopher remembered him well—Duke Bell.

  
 

“By no choice of mine,” Kristopher replied, and the duke just smiled in feral amusement, stroking a finger down his jaw.

  
 

“His Highness will have his way with you within the week, lovely,” he said, “No matter how your pride and indignation deny him. His seduction is slow but insistent, and you will fall to him. Then you'll have no hope of controlling him—he's an animal, let me tell you.”

  
 

“Should you really be talking about a prince that way?” Kristopher asked him from between clenched teeth, hoping to divert the topic. “I'm surprised you haven't been hanged yet.”

  
 

“He threatens,” Bradley replied, laughing airily. “But we have a past. I say what I please around this palace.”

  
 

“Well then, there should be plenty of others available for you to accost,” Kristopher shot back, as he mockingly half-bowed and swept away.

  
 

~

  
 

Adam caught him in the gardens that night, while he was packing away his equipment into the shed. Kristopher wondered for a moment what Adam would do if he simply walked on by—but his manners eventually won out, and he stopped in front of the prince, waiting expectantly.

  
 

“Good evening,” Adam smiled, bowing to him and holding out a thin-stalked red rose. ”This is for you.”

  
 

Kristopher stared blankly at the flower, his hands by his sides. “I just finished weeding those.”

  
 

“But I picked it for you, _mon amour,_ ” Adam smiled, still offering it to him, and Kristopher plucked it out of his hand, walking briskly over to the rose patch and sticking it back into the bush.

  
 

“I prefer it stay in the bed,” Kristopher stated, crossing his arms.

  
 

“Some things _are_ better there,” Adam agreed, fighting back a grin, and Kris scoffed, stomping around him.

  
 

“You are lewd,” he said, and Adam caught his arm, tugging him back.

  
 

“I apologize.... I can't help myself,” Adam smiled, speaking close to his ear. “You fall into it far too easily. Why don't you come and sit with me for a minute?” 

  
 

“I suppose I have no choice,” Kristopher sighed, turning, and Adam tittered, sitting next to him on the nearest ornate metal bench.

  
 

“You have a choice, love,” Adam contradicted, looking up at the star-speckled night sky before meeting his gaze. “Leave if you must.”

  
 

Kristopher just huffed and looked away, and Adam made a little noise, touching his jaw with gentle fingertips.

  
 

“I haven't seen you all day, darling,” Adam chuckled, thumb rubbing against the slight stubble of his cheek. “I can't possibly have angered you already.”

  
 

“I was accosted in the hallway today,” Kristopher replied, and Adam looked at him a little quizzically, eyebrows drawn together.

  
 

“By what?”

  
 

“A catty little duke,” Kristopher answered, distastefully. “Although he reminds me more of a rat at times.”

  
 

“Ah,” Adam laughed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “So you and Duke Bell crossed paths.”

  
 

Kristopher looked up at him, bluntly voicing the question on his mind. “Is it true that you bedded him?”

  
 

Adam chuckled bemusedly, settling back against the bench. 

  
 

“You're too bold, sometimes, love,” Adam replied, the side of his lips curving upwards. “But, yes. We were lovers for a while.”

  
 

“Why didn't you keep him and leave me be, then?” Kristopher grumbled, and Adam laughed again.

  
 

“That was years ago,” Adam said, eyes falling back through the passage of time for a moment. “Besides, you've seen how he can be. The specifics don't matter.”

  
 

He paused then, lips parting in a mischievous smile. “Why, darling? Are you jealous?”

  
 

Kristopher's cheeks reddened, and he spluttered indignantly, leaning away. 

  
 

“You're far too precious,” Adam said, hiding his silent laughter behind his palm as Kristopher fumed. Adam paused when a blast of cool nighttime breeze made Kristopher shiver, however, looking at him for a moment before sliding his fine embroidered jacket off his shoulders.

  
 

He slipped the fabric over Kristopher's shoulders, adjusting it determinedly when the smaller man immediately tried to push it off. Another gust of wind made Kristopher shudder again, however, and he sank back into the fabric, cheeks flaming as he held it closed across his chest.

  
 

The fabric softly caressed his knotted muscles, and he tensed, sitting silent for a moment.

  
 

“I did enjoy him calling you an animal, though,” Kristopher finally snarked, floundering for something to say. “I quite agree.”

  
 

Adam just stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter, doubling over, and Kristopher just looked down at him with surprised eyes, lips puckering indignantly.

  
 

“ _What?”_ Kristopher demanded, and Adam choked back his hiccups of laughter, flicking his hair back from his face.

  
 

“I don't think that's what he meant, love,” Adam grinned, a little naughtily, and the meaning behind Bradley's words finally dawned on him, making him flush crimson.

  
 

“Mmm,” Adam hummed, face going soft and sensual as he looked over at the other man. He leaned in slightly towards him, sliding a hand against the back of his neck. Kristopher's stomach jumped, and his eyes stuck wide, staring blankly at the other man.

  
 

“I could show you what he meant,” Adam offered, tongue snaking out to wet his lips, and Kristopher felt something flutter low in his stomach, sending him into a fit of panic.

  
 

“No,” Kristopher declined, shaking his head erratically, and Adam smiled slightly, thumbing his bottom lip.

  
 

“Come on, love,” Adam cajoled, warm fingers resting against his cheek, “Humor me. Let me kiss you like I would a lover.... Just once.”

  
 

Kristopher's mouth was suddenly bone-dry, and he opened his lips to protest, but the musky-sweet scent of that damn jacket surrounding him was—

  
 

A little noise of shock escaped his throat when Adam leaned in without further pretense and captured his mouth, cradling his face in his hands and pulling him close. Kristopher went taut in his arms, gasping when Adam took the opportunity to slip his tongue into his mouth, the muscle soft and tasting slightly of salt.

  
 

Kristopher's hands went to Adam's dark hair, intending to pull him away, but Adam's grip on his waist was too restricting, his fingers tangling in the black locks. The rough half-tug he managed only encouraged Adam, and Adam moaned low, playing his tongue against Kristopher's.

  
 

Adam slipped a hand under Kristopher's shirt, laying it against the warm skin of his lower back, pulling him closer. Something was burning in Kristopher's stomach, just as something hot and hard was brushing his thigh, sending him reeling.

  
 

His hands clenched into Adam's shoulders, roughly shoving him away as his breaths sawed frantically in and out of his chest. He couldn't breath; couldn't process what was happening, until Adam laid a hand on either side of his face and softly shushed him.

  
 

“Mmm,” Adam laughed, a little breathlessly, “Maybe I shouldn't do that if it's going to send you into fits of panic.”

  
 

“Yes, maybe not,” Kristopher sarcastically shot back, and Adam only hummed again.

  
 

“How about this?” Adam murmured, sliding his lips slowly back into place against Kristopher's, and Kristopher pushed him back quickly this time, turning his face away.

  
 

“No, Adam, please,” Kristopher protested, pressing the jacket back into his arms and standing up. “I can't—”

  
 

“It's all right,” Adam assured him, smiling lightly and standing with him. “That was more than enough to sate me for tonight.”

  
 

Kristopher blushed and looked away. “Just don't...don't _do_ that!”

  
 

“Okay,” Adam sighed, smiling down at him. “I'll escort you back to your room, now, and leave you for the night. If you please.”

  
 

“Yes,” Kristopher agreed, following Adam back to his room. 

  
 

They paused outside again, Adam smiling fondly down at him.

  
 

“I suppose I shouldn't ask if I may kiss you goodnight,” Adam said, pressing his lips to the back of his hand. “Goodnight, Kristopher.”

  
 

Adam turned to leave, then, and Kristopher didn't know _what_ possessed him to catch his arm and pull him back, stretching up to press a small kiss to his cheek.

  
 

He blushed and retreated, then, his eyes direct nonetheless. “Now...don't you _dare_ bother me tomorrow.”

  
 

“Fair enough,” Adam acknowledged, smiling bemusedly and slipping away.

  
 

~

  
 

There were hands on his body.

  
 

Kristopher choked on his next breath and quivered beneath the pressure, feeling long fingers kneading and rubbing over his flesh, making heat arch low in his belly. Soft lips were at his neck, tasting and nipping before moving upwards to claim him, the sweet wet heat of a tongue slipping into his mouth, tracing the contours of his lips.

  
 

Kristopher tangled his hands into hair that was nothing more than a shock of inky blackness, feeling those seeking fingers fall between his thighs. The pleasure that followed was a pure static shock, and he cried out as those piercing blue eyes rose to meet his, the gaze cutting him apart at the seams.

  
 

Kristopher's own strangled moan startled him awake, and he gasped in confusion, face pressed into his pillow. He was sprawled out on his stomach in bed, and his cheeks burned as he realized that his manhood was erect and throbbing between his thighs, pressed into the mattress.

  
 

He rolled over onto his back, feeling the hot stalk of flesh tent out his sleeping pants, and he covered his eyes and moaned in mortification, heart still racing.

  
 

What the hell was wrong with him? That dream—his face flamed as he remembered the eroticism. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then, willing his body to cool.

  
 

He'd let a few presumptuous kisses rattle him, and this is what he got in return.

  
 

He sighed, resigning himself to one, and only one, thing. He had to admit that he found Adam attractive—his overly-sensual nature certainly didn't help. But that didn't change the fact that the man was a bastard; Kristopher could just imagine how many poor men he'd pulled in with his clever seduction. He was a prince, for heaven's sake—it's not like he could, or would, seriously commit himself to a _man._ It was certainly just a little game he played, one that Kristopher had so foolishly let himself be pulled into.

  
 

But no more. He just had to keep his goal in sight. It had already been three days, meaning that the end of the month was only four away. There was no way an arrogant Frenchman could break him in less than a week. Soon, he'd be on his way home to his mother with a nice, weighty bag of coins tucked into his pocket.

  
 

“I'll never let him play that game with me,” Kristopher mumbled to himself, his arousal all swept away. “It will only end with me left in the dust.”


	5. Chapter 5

“This is earlier than you usually show up,” Kristopher commented with an endearing little sigh, shucking the work gloves off his hands and wiping a trickle of sweat from his brow. Adam could smell the sweet scent of him from where he was standing a few feet away—the light scent of flowers, laid over by gritty earth. “It's before sunset.”

 

“I have business to attend to tomorrow,” Adam explained, watching the way Kristopher's hair shimmered in the sunlight. “I thought I'd spend the rest of the day with you to compensate.”

  
 

“You're the one losing money,” Kristopher shrugged, stepping out onto the pathway. “You're paying me for a full day's work either way.”

  
 

“It's worth every franc, mon cher,” Adam assured him, sliding a hand around his waist and onto the small of his back. Kristopher looked up, something flashing in his eyes as their gazes met. He looked away quickly however, his cheeks stained a light pink.

  
 

“You make it sound...as if I'm a prostitute,” Kristopher mumbled, the line of his back stiff under Adam's palm.

  
 

Adam was silent for a long moment, before leading him over to the nearest tree and sitting down against the trunk, beckoning for Kristopher to do the same.

  
 

“I've told you, darling,” Adam said, softly, “I don't involve myself with such things. You're being paid for your hard work, and nothing more.”

  
 

“That doesn't change the fact that you're only keeping me to get me into your bed,” Kristopher replied, a little spitefully, twisting a blade of grass around his finger.

  
 

Adam sighed, leaning back against the bark. It was true that he'd been at first attracted to Kristopher's perfect figure—but, as time progressed, his feisty spirit and sharp wit took more and more of a hold on him. He had always been quick to emotion, but never like this. He wanted not only his body.... He wanted Kristopher to give him everything.

  
 

“I apologize,” Adam acknowledged, laying a gentle hand on Kristopher's arm. “I have been too forward. But your lips have been a burning temptation ever since I met you.”

  
 

He paused. “But that's not all, despite what you may think. I only want you to open up to me.”

  
 

“Cajoling me into your bedchambers is not the way to do it, Sire,” Kristopher mumbled. “Not that I would allow you to in the first place.”

  
 

“Fair enough,” Adam agreed, slowly nodding his head. “I won't kiss your lips again.... Not until you initiate it.”

  
 

“I doubt this bet could get much easier, at this point,” Kristopher said, the stiff set of his shoulders relaxing a bit, and Adam chuckled.

  
 

“Oh,” Adam said, speculatively, “The outcome hasn't been decided just yet—you may still fall, my love.”

  
 

“Believe what you may, Prince,” Kristopher said, mildly, and Adam just smiled.

  
 

“Will you at least let me hold you for a while while the sun sets?” Adam asked, gently. “Tomorrow I must leave the district for the day.”

  
 

Kristopher bit his lip, but he didn't resist when Adam took him into his lap, curling his long arms around his waist.

  
 

The sun was hovering on the edge of the horizon, a red, hazy disk of light, and Adam pulled him closer, embrace soft and comforting.

  
 

“Just relax,” Adam murmured, running his fingers lightly through his hair, and Kristopher gradually relaxed back into Adam's arms, his eyes taking on the blurry cast of sleep.

  
 

“Sleep, love; if you're tired,” Adam whispered into his ear, pressing a soft kiss to his face and gently caressing his hair, and Kristopher yawned, eyelashes fluttering dark against his cheekbones.

  
 

“Not fair,” he vaguely mumbled, eyes sliding shut, and Adam smiled, letting him nestle in against his neck as he fell into restful slumber.

  
 

Adam sat for a while and just held him, soft brown hair tickling his chin as Kristopher's breath fanned warm and gentle across his throat. Eventually, however, the sun sank down over the horizon, blanketing the gardens in the hazy darkness of dusk. Adam gazed down at Kristopher for a few more seconds, before lifting his thin frame in his arms and carrying him back into the palace.

  
 

Those that were still traveling the halls shot him questioning looks, and Adam smiled, feeling sleep-soft lips pressed against his collarbone. If only he could see himself now.

  
 

Adam brought Kristopher to his room and laid him down on the bed, pulling off his boots and settling the blanket over top of him. His face was sweet and slack in slumber, his full lips slightly parted.

  
 

Those lips called to him, but Adam had made a promise. He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to his cheek as he pushed his hair back off his forehead.

  
 

“Bonne nuit, cher Kristopher.... Dors bien,” Adam murmured, shutting the door carefully behind him.

  
 

That night, in his chambers, Adam wondered if he was truly courageous enough to trust that boy with his heart.

  
 

~

  
 

Kristopher woke up at the first light of dawn the next morning, surprisingly refreshed. He stretched luxuriously, eyebrows crinkling mid-yawn as he tried to recall how he'd gotten into his bed last night.

  
 

His eyes widened as he remembered, his cheeks immediately flushing with color. Bloody hell, so much for his resolution—he'd fallen asleep in his arms. Which meant—

  
 

His cheeks flushed. Had Adam...carried him back?

  
 

He groaned, covering his eyes. There would be no facing him now. Luckily, Kristopher had the advantage that the prince would be absent for the day. More time to scrape together what was left of his dignity, he supposed.

  
 

Kristopher got up from his bed and quickly made it, before scrubbing his face in the wash basin. He quickly pulled his clothes on, then, unable to ignore the light, familiar scent that still lingered in the room.

  
 

At least in the garden his hands were busy, and his mind could forget. Forget everything, save his return to his mother and his homeland. He had to compose himself.

  
 

He hadn't meant to make himself vulnerable like that the night before. Fingers running through his hair had always made him slip away before he knew what was happening—his mother had employed that trick many a time when he was a restless young boy. It figured that Adam would pick up on his weakness so adeptly—that man always seemed to know just what buttons to press.

  
 

The day slid by in a hazy passage of sunlight, bees buzzing lazily through the flowers Kris was attending to. He had to admit that gardening was quite different from the farm work he was used to—less manual labor and more attentive caring.

  
 

He was just preparing to return to the palace for the night when one of the other gardener's heads raised, eyebrows drawn down.

  
 

“Qu'est-ce que c'est?” she asked, pointing towards the palace, using the phrase Kristopher had come to realize meant, 'What's that?'

  
 

He turned his head, following her gesture. They had a side view of the front courtyard from here, and Kristopher could hear the heavy gallop of hooves as a large group of men on horseback approached. They were all men of the king—Kris could tell by their attire—but one was laid across the back of his horse, the beast being led by another.

  
 

“That's the party that left early this morning,” Kristopher replied, despite the fact that the woman couldn't understand him. His eyes narrowed, staring intently over at the group. That body on the horse, its—

  
 

Its hair was dark.

  
 

“I have to go,” Kristopher quickly excused himself, leaving the tools he had been using behind on the ground as he hurried towards the palace.

  
 

By the time he reached it, the men had already disappeared, their horses left tethered outside. Kristopher grimaced at the sight—one had blood soaked into the fur of his back, blood that was not its own.

  
 

“Christ,” Kristopher breathed, a sick sense of premonition settling into his stomach as he dashed inside.

  
 

The Grand Hall was deserted, save for Duke Bell, whose petite form was just disappearing around the corner.

  
 

“Duke!” Kristopher shouted, running after him, and Bradley turned around at the sound, eyebrows raising.

  
 

“What happened?” Kristopher asked, afraid to hear the answer.

  
 

Bradley's forehead creased in a display of stress, one that looked terribly out of place on the normally cool, catty face. But just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, his expression smoothed over.

  
 

“Adam's been hurt,” he replied, his voice clipped. “I don't know what happened. He's been taken to his room; no one will be allowed to see him until the doctor finishes tending to him.”

  
 

“That's all you can tell me?” Kris prodded, and Bradley's face pinched in annoyance.

  
 

“I'm surprised that you even care to know,” he snapped. “Judging by what you seem to think of him.”

  
 

“You don't know how it is between the two of us,” Kristopher shot back, defensive, his eyes darkening with anger as the other man raked him with a scornful gaze.

  
 

“I don't think you know how it is,” Bradley replied. “Adam deserves better than you—he deserves a man who will love him. Not some snotty, ungrateful Englishman!”

  
 

Kristopher didn't have a response to that, and he turned on his heel, escaping down the hallway towards Adam's room.

  
 

He paused halfway and leaned back against the tall stone wall, wiping angrily at the moisture fogging his eyes. He didn't know why he was so worked up about what Bradley had said—it was the truth. He didn't know how it was—he couldn't give his love to the prince. Snotty. Ungrateful.

  
 

Kristopher took a shaky breath, before setting his shoulders and continuing on.

  
 

The door to Adam's room opened as soon as he reached it, and a doctor emerged into the hallway, nearly running him over. Kristopher stumbled backwards, and the tall, skinny man just looked down the length of his nose at him, sniffing a little.

  
 

“What is your name?” he asked, in heavily-accented English, and Kristopher stuttered a little.

  
 

“Er, Kristopher Allen, sir,” he answered, and the doctor huffed.

  
 

“I advised the prince to stay silent and relax for now,” he explained, “but he insisted that if a Kristopher Allen came by, that he be let in. He also said the chances of that were slim, but, here you are. Go in if you must.”

  
 

“Okay.... Thank you,” Kristopher mumbled, as the doctor walked briskly away. His words had made him wince, something stinging in his chest. Adam hadn't thought he would come—but why was that a surprise? Wasn't that what he had always led him to believe? That he wouldn't be worth an hour of his time if the bet were not in place?

  
 

Dammit.... He couldn't decode what he was feeling.

  
 

Kristopher took a deep breath and entered, gently shutting the door behind him.

  
 

Adam was arranged on his massive four-poster bed, his chest bare save for a large white bandage covering the side of his torso. His eyes were closed, and Kristopher raised a hand to his mouth, a thousand emotions beating against the walls of his chest.

  
 

He slowly approached the bed and sat down on the edge, looking down at him. His face was as untroubled as Kristopher had ever seen it—slack and soft, his eyelashes dark against his cheeks. His full lips were parted slightly, a whisper of air escaping from between them.

  
 

The knot in his throat was becoming too painful to ignore, and Kristopher choked it down, willing himself not to tear up. He wouldn't cry over this man; he wouldn't—

  
 

And suddenly, all he could remember was Adam holding him the night before, his embrace gentle and his lips restrained. The image was burned into his mind, cutting him to the quick as he looked down at the obviously-weak man below him.

  
 

He leaned down before he could think too closely about what he was doing, bracing his hands against the bed on either side of Adam's head. He hovered there for a moment, his eyelashes dipping as he pressed his mouth softly down against Adam's. He was finally giving the prince what he'd wanted, and, somehow, fulfilling a need of his own as well.

  
 

Adam stirred beneath the gentle, hesitant kiss, his hand raising from the mattress to lay warm along Kristopher's jaw, thumb stroking at the stubbled flesh. His soft mouth parted, then, moving beneath his own, and Kristopher squeezed his eyes shut, really feeling it for the first time.

  
 

Adam sighed and slowly pulled back, clinging lips and trailing moisture between them until he settled back against the pillow, gazing up at Kristopher with warmly-slitted eyes.

  
 

“I was only dozing,” Adam murmured, lips curving up into a small smile, and Kristopher's calm facade finally cracked, moisture welling up in his eyes.

  
 

“Oh, no, ne pleure pas, je t'en prie, mon amour,” Adam shushed him, framing his face in his hands and wiping away his tears. “I'm all right. Some rogues surprised us on the road. The cut isn't very deep at all—it'll be healed over in just a few days. I promise you.”

  
 

“I'm glad,” Kristopher replied, whisper quiet.

  
 

“Then why do you look so sad?” Adam questioned, tracing his lips with the pad of his thumb.

  
 

“It's nothing,” Kristopher said, averting his eyes. “I shouldn't bother you with it. It's just, Duke Bell....”

  
 

“What the hell did he tell you this time?” Adam asked, his voice laced with anger. “I swear, I'm going to have that man strung up—”

  
 

“No, nothing improper,” Kristopher assured him, slowly shaking his head. “He.... He only told me the truth.”

  
 

“What?” Adam asked, puzzled, and Kristopher took a shaky breath, leaning his forehead down against Adam's shoulder.

  
 

“You....” he started, “Despite everything, you've been...kind to me. And I've never done...anything to deserve that from you. I've only ever...tried to hurt you.”

  
 

“You gave me a chance, love,” Adam murmured, brushing Kristopher's hair back from his forehead with gentle, lingering fingertips. “That's all I asked from you.”

  
 

“I still feel heartless,” Kristopher mumbled. “The doctor told me you didn't even expect me to come.”

  
 

“Only because I know you're conflicted, sweet love,” Adam explained. “I didn't even think you would hear about it until tomorrow. I didn't mean to offend you.”

  
 

“You didn't offend,” Kristopher replied, his eyes averted. “It was just.... It made me realize how I've been treating you.”

  
 

“This past week has brought me nothing but joy, Kristopher,” Adam contradicted him, turning Kristopher's chin to look into those big, earthy-brown eyes. “And I'm so glad you came to give me a kiss.”

  
 

Kristopher blushed a little, his lips parting the slightest bit as Adam continued.

  
 

“Would you do it again?” Adam slowly asked, watching intently as Kristopher's eyes widened a little. “In all fairness, I was asleep when you came in.... I want to feel you kiss me.”

  
 

“Adam,” Kristopher said, cheeks flaming as he buried his face into the comforter, “you have such a way with embarrassing me.”

  
 

“You're just bashful, darling,” Adam smiled, and Kristopher raised his face to look at him, flushed red.

  
 

He gathered up all his courage, before pausing and nibbling his own bottom lip between his teeth, staring down at Adam.

  
 

“Close your eyes,” he ordered, intimidated by the piercing blue gaze, and Adam did as he was told, eyelashes settling down against his cheekbones.

  
 

Kristopher took a deep breath and slowly leaned down, stifling the frantic little voice in his head. He paused a few inches away, however, watching the way Adam's eyelids fluttered as he lay there.

  
 

The first taste was brief and hesitant, and Kristopher's eyes slid shut as he felt the smoothness of Adam's mouth, pliant and still beneath his own. He sighed a little and came back again, this time pressing in a little firmer, touching his lips to Adam's in a series of soft pecks.

  
 

The feeling was completely foreign.... He'd never kissed anyone like this. Adam made it seem so simple; using his lips and tongue to draw every reaction imaginable from him. Kristopher had to wonder if he was doing it right, until Adam ran a hand through his hair and pulled him closer, their lips sealing into a passionate kiss.

  
 

Kristopher's cheeks flushed in embarrassment as his ears registered the little whimpers that were slipping from his mouth, and he pulled away from Adam's sweet, velvety-soft lips, burying his face against his shoulder.

  
 

“It's getting late,” Adam murmured, stroking his fingers slowly through Kristopher's hair. “The doctor will be angry if I don't get my sleep.”

  
 

“Of course,” Kristopher mumbled, his eyes hazy with kisses and fatigue, his body sinking instinctively into the soft wool-stuffed mattress. “I should go....”

  
 

“The bed is plenty large enough, if you wish to stay,” Adam offered, looking over at him—but he was already asleep, nestled in against his side.

  
 

Adam smiled and pressed a kiss to his forehead, settling down beside him.

  
 

“Goodnight, my Christophe,” Adam murmured, laying an arm across his waist and pulling him close.

~

Kristopher woke up far more comfortable than usual, fuzzily trying to discern why his bed felt so much softer than it had before. He remembered just as his mind registered the warm body nestled up behind him, and he sighed, eyes closing again.

 

He really had to work on this whole falling-asleep problem. But Adam's arm was wrapped around his waist, the soft, downy comforter cocooning him in warmth....

  
 

He was playing with Adam's fingers at his waist before his sleep-fogged mind could catch up to what he was doing, his fingers twining idly through Adams thin, nimble digits.

  
 

Adam stirred behind him, fingers curling around Kristopher's before he could pull away.

  
 

“Good morning, beau,” Adam murmured, kissing the dip of his shoulder, and Kristopher shifted in the bed, uncomfortable in the clothes he had slept in.

  
 

“What does that mean, anyway?” Kris asked, suddenly, turning around to face Adam.

  
 

“What, beau?'” Adam asked, smiling lightly and kissing his face. “It means beautiful.”

 

Kristopher blushed a little, averting his eyes, and Adam smiled, propping his head up into his hand.

  
 

“Why do you ask, mon chéri?” Adam teased, his eyes already bright and awake. “Are you finally taking an interest in French?”

 

“No,” Kristopher denied, ignoring Adam's jests. “I just want to know what you're calling me.”

  
 

“I'm only calling you what you are, darling,” Adam replied, and Kristopher embarrasedly turned his face away, shaking his head.

  
 

“I'm not,” Kristopher argued. “I mean.... You're the picture-perfect image of nobility. I'm...just a farm boy.”

  
 

“You have a face that many of the men in this palace would kill for,” Adam disagreed. “In case you hadn't noticed, you bear a certain resemblance to Duke Bell.”

  
 

“God, don't tell me that!” Kristopher exclaimed, burying his face into the pillow, and Adam laughed, carding his fingers lightly through his hair.

  
 

“I'm not speaking of your personality, love,” Adam assured him, chuckling a little. “There's only a certain resemblance between the two of you. But you are still the most beautiful man I've ever laid eyes on—it struck me dumb that first day.”

  
 

“I don't think you've ever been dumb in that sense, Adam,” Kristopher replied, and Adam laid a hand to his own chest in mock injury, huffing.

  
 

“You're accusing me of talking too much?” Adam asked, and Kristopher half-smiled, shrugging his shoulders.

  
 

“Perhaps.”

  
 

“I can work on that,” Adam teased, wrapping him into his arms, and Kristopher gave in, relaxing against him. He'd already spent the night in his bed—why bother fighting it now?

  
 

“Does it hurt?” Kristopher asked, laying gentle fingertips against his bandage, and Adam shook his head, pulling the other man's hand around his waist.

  
 

Adam smiled and peppered kisses across his neck and shoulders, tongue tracing lazily across his collarbone. Kristopher's breath hitched, and Adam tipped his chin up to meet his lips, hands running up and down the expanse of his back.

  
 

Kristopher could only part his lips and let Adam lick the sourness out of his mouth, sighing a little at the sensation. He hesitantly snaked his tongue out, touching it to the perfect curve of Adam's bottom lip, and Adam groaned, tugging him closer and nipping at his lips.

  
 

Kristopher gasped, unable to avoid feeling every hard line of Adam's body against his. He cursed in shock as something stiff and hot was pressed against the V of his hips, his own flesh raising traitorously between his thighs.

  
 

“I'm sorry,” Adam apologized, smiling a little against the other man's lips. “That was already there. It is morning, after all.”

  
 

He paused, making a little noise that vibrated somewhere between a laugh and a moan. “I'm rather sure yours wasn't, though.”

  
 

“Ngh,” Kristopher groaned, sitting up and hiding his face in his hands. He was mortified—no one had ever felt that part of him before.

  
 

“Kristopher?” Adam asked, laying a hand on his knee. “What's wrong? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to poke fun at you.”

  
 

“It's just...embarrassing!” Kristopher exclaimed, his face and neck flushed red, and Adam made a little noise of understanding, pulling one of Kris' hands away from his face.

  
 

“It's nothing to be ashamed of,” Adam assured him, gently touching his cheek. “It's only a sign of desire.”

 

“But I.... I don't know how all of this is supposed to work.... It just embarrasses me to no end,” Kristopher mumbled, eyes downcast, and Adam kissed his palm, nuzzling his nose against the soft flesh.

  
 

“You know I'll teach you, if you want me to,” Adam murmured. “I can show you how good it can be.”

  
 

“But I've heard hearsay, you know....” Kristopher said, and Adam's lips puckered.

  
 

“Don't believe all of the things you hear drunk men snicker about it in the back of pubs,” Adam said, a little bitterly. “It's a shame our society has put a taboo on the most beautiful thing two male lovers can do for each other.”

 

“So it really is...pleasurable?” Kristopher asked, biting his lip, and Adam nodded.

  
 

“With the right person,” Adam replied, “It's indescribable.”

  
 

“Oh,” Kristopher said, pausing for a minute. “Um...when did you know that...?”

  
 

“I preferred the company of men?” Adam finished, smiling a little. “I suppose I've always known. I've had several male lovers over the years, but none of them were exactly serious.... Not until Bradley.”

  
 

“But how do you know, if you've never been with a woman?” Kristopher questioned, and Adam shrugged.

  
 

“A woman has never attracted my eye,” he simply answered, before looking up at him. “Would you mind if I asked you the same?”

  
 

“I'm a virgin,” Kristopher replied, the word sticking a little in his throat, and Adam nodded.

  
 

“I figured as much,” he replied.

  
 

Kristopher blushed, looking away. “Was it really that obvious?”

  
 

“I could tell that you hadn't been with a man before,” Adam said, kissing his wrist. “But it's perfectly okay, my love. Virgins simply have no scars from past lovers to carry into the picture. You don't need to be embarrassed.”

 

Adam looked up at him from under his lashes, laying Kristopher's palm against his cheek. “I like it that you're untouched, actually. I like to think that I'm the first person to make you feel these things.”

  
 

Kristopher bit his lip, meeting Adam's gaze, and Adam leaned over, pressing a slow, soft kiss to his mouth.

  
 

“So don't be afraid to kiss me, if you want to,” Adam murmured, “or ask me to show you something. I'm not judging you.... I only wish to love you.”

  
 

“Okay, Adam,” Kristopher replied, a little shyly. “Why don't we...get ready? I still have work to do today.”

  
 

“Whatever you please, darling,” Adam agreed, throwing back the covers.

  
 

Kristopher stood up, hesitating by the side of the bed, and Adam reached up for him, kissing the side of his face.

  
 

“I might come and visit you later.... Oui?” Adam asked, and Kristopher nodded slightly.

  
 

“If you want to,” Kristopher murmured, giving him a quick kiss on the lips before heading out.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Adam sighed, finally exiting the Dining Hall. He and all the advisers to the King had been held up in a council, considering how to deal with the rogues they had captured. Death had been discussed, and now Adam wanted nothing more than to see his Kristopher, to lay down with him and draw him into his arms. 

  
 

Adam pulled out his silver pocket watch, sighing again as he saw the time. It was approaching 10:30; Kristopher would almost certainly be in bed. Well, maybe he would go change and drop in for just a moment.

  
 

Adam went to his room and changed into a soft, plain silk shirt and breeches, before making his way to Kristopher's room. The maids that were still awake shot him curious looks around their nods of respect—it was unusual for him to be up this late, especially wandering the servant's quarters.

  
 

Adam slipped silently into Kristopher's bedchamber, foregoing knocking when he noticed the crack under the door was dark. 

  
 

The room was dark and silent, and Adam paused in the doorway, eyes softening at the sight. Kristopher was cocooned in his bed, moonlight filtering through the small window and onto his sleeping form. 

  
 

Adam gently shut the door behind him, before moving across the room and sitting down on the edge of Kristopher's bed. He gazed silently down at him for a long moment, laying a hand softly against his cheek. The thought crossed his mind that tomorrow was the last day of the month—the last day of their bet.

  
 

Kristopher shifted under his touch, one eye cracking open. His lips parted in a wide yawn, and Adam very nearly melted at the endearing sight.

  
 

“Adam?” Kristopher mumbled, sleepily, and Adam nodded.

  
 

“Yes, darling, _”_ Adam replied, running a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. “I thought I'd come and stay with you for a while.”

  
 

“C'mon then,” Kristopher mumbled, obviously on the verge of falling back into unconsciousness, and Adam toed his shoes off and slipped into bed beside him, curling an arm around his waist.

  
 

Kristopher just sighed and leaned back into him, already asleep, and Adam pressed a kiss to the dip of his neck, burying his face into his hair and inhaling his scent.

  
 

~

  
 

Adam could think of nothing better than waking up next to the most beautiful man in all of Europe. It was a sweet awakening, one that he hoped to experience every night from this moment on. Of course, that only augmented the realization that this was the final day of their bet—the final day that Kristopher was assured to be his.

  
 

Adam closed his eyes briefly before looking down at the young man nestled in his arms, his head laying against his chest. He had to believe that he would stay.

  
 

“ _J'espère que tu resteras auprès de moi, mon amour,”_ Adam murmured, drinking in the sweet, earthy scent of him. “I hope you will stay.”

  
 

Adam held him for a few minutes longer, before lowering his face and kissing him awake, the soft touches of his lips rousing him. Kristopher stirred and opened his eyes, looking a little confusedly up at him.

  
 

“You don't remember me coming in last night?” Adam asked, amused, and Kristopher shook his head.

  
 

“I promise I woke you....I didn't join you in bed uninvited,” Adam reassured him with a smile, kissing his cheek. “Not really.”

  
 

Kristopher's expression was still fuzzy with sleep, his hair mussed to haphazard angles by the pillow, and Adam smiled tenderly down at him, extricating himself and standing.

  
 

“I'm going to go to my chambers and change, all right?” Adam said, standing by the door. “Why don't you get ready?”

  
 

“Nggh,” Kristopher mumbled, burying his face into the pillow, and Adam chuckled a little, shutting the door behind him.

  
 

~

  
 

By the time Adam returned, Kristopher was up and dressed, freshly shaven and sweet-smelling. His eyes were still a little distant, however, and Adam chuckled, leaning against the door.

  
 

“You know,” he started, “I thought farm boys were supposed to enjoy getting up at the break of dawn.”

  
 

“Just because I'm used to it,” Kristopher yawned, “Doesn't mean I have to like it.”

  
 

“Fair enough,” Adam replied, before walking over and gently taking his hand, kissing across the pads of his fingers.

  
 

“I hope you weren't planning on working today,” Adam murmured, twining their fingers together and pressing his lips against his knuckles. “Because we're going to have a special day together. Just the two of us.”

  
 

“As long as you mind your manners, I suppose,” Kristopher replied, and Adam laughed, looking at him from under his lashes and pressing the lightest of kisses to his lips.

  
 

“I'll see what I can do,” Adam chuckled, before pausing. “Let's go to the dining hall for a bite to eat, yes? Everyone should be gathered.”

  
 

“Is it...proper for a farm hand to attend such things?” Kristopher asked, eyebrows creasing, and Adam smiled.

  
 

“If you're there with me, then no one will question your presence, _mon amour,”_ Adam simply replied. 

  
 

“If you're sure,” Kristopher said, and Adam looked speculatively at him, the cogs turning in his mind.

  
 

“Will you let me choose you an outfit?” Adam asked, eyes lighting up. “I have just the thing in mind.”

  
 

“Adam....” Kristopher said, apprehensive, and Adam took his hand in both of his.

  
 

“Nothing too drastic, I promise you,” Adam murmured, laying a hand against his soft, smooth-shaven cheek. “And if it doesn't suit your taste, you can take it off.”

  
 

“All right,” Kristopher agreed, hesitantly, and Adam smiled, pecking him on the cheek.

  
 

“I'll return in a moment,” Adam excused himself, hurrying out.

  
 

He was back to his own chambers in but a minute, pulling open his wardrobe. And there it was, nestled into the corner—the outfit Adam had hoped Kristopher would wear, one day.

  
 

Adam supposed it had been presumptuous of him to have it made, but he was sure it would look lovely on the object of his affection. He'd had to estimate Kristopher's measurements to the seamstress—he hoped it would fit all right.

  
 

He laid it carefully over his arm and headed back to Kristopher's chambers, walking slowly as not to wrinkle it. Kristopher was seated on the bed when he returned, his bright brown eyes falling on the garments Adam held.

  
 

“Oh my,” Kristopher said, eyes widening a little as Adam held up the clothes. “They're...really beautiful. It must have cost a fortune to have that made; you shouldn't have—”

  
 

“It's a gift, _chéri,”_ Adam smiled, pressing the fabric into his hands. “Speak no more of it. Try it on for me?”

  
 

Kristopher blushed a little, averting his face. “Could you...?”

  
 

“If you wish,” Adam smiled, heading to the other end of the small room to allow Kristopher to change. There was a rustling of fabric as he shed his clothes, and Adam tried his hardest not to imagine what was going on a mere few feet away from him, and what the sight would be if he were to turn around.

  
 

“Okay,” Kristopher said, voice soft and sweet, and Adam turned, melting immediately.

  
 

The seamstress had done a wonderful job; the jacket and breeches fit him perfectly. Made of soft blue silk, the ensemble accentuated his thinness and the sharpness of his features. It was edged in fine dark blue embroidery about the shoulders and cuffs, gold buttons glinting in the light. Adam couldn't help but notice that Kristopher's averted brown eyes were made even more intriguing by the fabric's contrast. 

  
 

“You look absolutely stunning,” Adam stated, truthfully, and Kristopher blushed, standing a little awkwardly.

  
 

“I don't know,” he murmured, staring down at the carpet. “I've never worn anything this grand before.... And you shouldn't have spent so much....”

  
 

“Kristopher, listen to me,” Adam said, firmly, walking up and taking his chin between his fingertips. “I promise you.... One glance of you looking like this is worth the price a thousand times over. _”_

  
 

Kristopher flushed red, and Adam took him into his arms, the silky-fine fabric slipping across his palms. He drew him close, then, tracing his fingers across his shoulder blades and softly pressing their mouths together. Kristopher hesitantly laid his hands on Adam's waist as they kissed, and Adam sighed, the simple sensation making him shudder.

  
 

“We had better go, love, _”_ Adam murmured, looking down into Kristopher's dark eyes, and Kristopher mutely nodded, returning his gaze.

  
 

Adam took his hand and led him out through the hallways, keeping him close by his side. Kristopher was obviously apprehensive, eyes directed towards the ground, but those they passed only bowed or nodded in respect. Not a questioning gaze was leveled at them—everyone knew that the prince took the company of men, and those that objected knew enough to stay silent.

  
 

Adam simply wanted Kristopher to be comfortable in such a setting.... He wanted him to feel like this was where he belonged. 

  
 

By his side.

 

The dining hall was indeed full of activity, his mother and father seated at the head of the table as usual. He brought Kristopher around to Adam's chair, and one of the nobles, noticing his company, vacated the seat next to him with a bow. Adam thanked him with a smile and pulled the chair out for Kristopher, beckoning for him to sit down.

  
 

He did, biting on that plump bottom lip of his. And Lord, how this simple farm boy had corrupted him in a week—it was all he could do not to lean over and bite it for him.

  
 

“ _Bonjour,”_ the King and Queen greeted, as the two men dished up their food.

  
 

“ _Bonjour, Père, Mère,”_ Adam smiled, laying a hand on Kristopher's arm. _“Voici Kristopher. Vous vous souvenez de lui, n'est-ce pas?”_

  
 

“Of course we remember him,” the King throatily agreed, waving a hand. It was difficult to tell if he was being sincere. “You look splendid, lad. How do you do?”

  
 

“Quite well, Sire, thank you,” Kristopher replied, with a polite little bow of his head, and Adam didn't know whether to be impressed or to laugh out loud. He was certainly made to socialize with royals, but where was _that_ politeness hiding when Kristopher had chastised him over this last week?

  
 

The thought only put a fond smile on his face, and Kristopher caught his gaze for a moment, before flushing slightly and returning to his food.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Kristopher settled himself onto the nearest bench, sighing and closing his eyes as a light breeze caressed his cheek. It was good to get out into the fresh air—he wasn't used to crowds, and the dining room had been nearly suffocating, packed with bodies and the rich scents of freshly-prepared food.

  
 

Kristopher smiled a little—he supposed it was a little hypocritical of him to be nervous of the aristocrats, considering the fact that he'd spent the last week alternating between arguing with and kissing the heir to the French throne. It was easy to forget that Adam was of the highest stock.

  
 

Adam had left him in the gardens with a peck to his cheek, assuring him that he'd be just a moment. Kristopher had to wonder what he had planned—today was the last day of the month, after all.

  
 

The last day that he was required to stay here with Adam. As of tomorrow, he was a free man once again.

  
 

Kristopher bit his lip, but before he could dwell too deeply on that subject, a horse was swerving around the large row of hedges, trotting briskly down the cobblestone walkway. The rider drew his grand white stallion to a halt in front of him without a word, using only his body to convey to the horse what he wanted. The beast was bareback, and Adam sat proud and erect upon him, fingers curled lightly into his mane in lieu of a bridle and reigns.

  
 

“ _Bonjour,”_ Adam smiled down at him, swinging off of his back in one graceful flex of muscle. “This is Abatos. Hop on up _...._ We're going for a ride.”

  
 

“To where?” Kristopher questioned, laying his hand against the smooth fur of Abatos' back, and Adam smiled.

  
 

“Outside of the city,” Adam replied, touching his arm. “To one of my favorite spots.”

  
 

“All right,” Kristopher said, looking a little uneasily up at the imposingly tall horse. He had never ridden bareback, but....

  
 

“Allow me to help,” Adam said, coming up behind him and grasping his thin waist, boosting the smaller man up effortlessly as he swung his leg around.

  
 

“I could have done it,” Kristopher grumbled, and Adam laughed, swinging up in front of him and taking hold of Abatos' snow-white mane again. 

  
 

“I don't doubt it, _chéri,”_ Adam smiled, giving the horse a light tap with his heels to get him started into a steady trot.

  
 

Adam led them out of the courtyard and through the streets of the city, Abatos' hooves clip-clopping rhythmically against the pavement. The bouncing of the horse, paired with the lack of a saddle, left Kristopher feeling a little unsettled, and he laid his hands on the only support available—Adam's waist.

  
 

Kristopher could just imagine the smug smile on the Prince's face, and he sighed, looking about.

  
 

Golden sunbeams dappled the grass and farmland that lay outside the city, the heady scent of earth strong in the air. Long grasses and vibrant wildflowers bordered the road, waving lazily in the light breeze.

 

“Is this not the finest countryside you've ever seen, Kristopher?” Adam asked, leading them towards a small grouping of trees off the main path, and Kristopher shrugged.

  
 

“It's nice,” he said, mildly, “but it can't compare to my homeland.”

  
 

“You'll have to show me this famed English countryside one day, darling,” Adam laughed, and Kristopher took his hands off of his waist—the horse's trotting be damned.

  
 

They wove through the patch of forest, eventually emerging upon a small meadow of sorts concealed within the trees. The air was thick with the scent of tangled flowers, sprayed colorfully amongst the long, soft grass. Bees buzzed lazily about, and sunlight filtered in strips down through the canopy of leaves, striping the land below with lazy, golden light.

  
 

Adam swung off of Abatos and helped Kristopher down, hands gently gripping his waist. He picked up the blanket that had been laid over the horse's hindquarters, then, and laid it across the grass. The prince settled down onto the blanket, before beckoning for Kristopher to join him, long legs sprawled out in front of him.

  
 

Kristopher hesitantly approached, sitting beside him, and Adam made a small noise, reaching for him.

  
 

“ _Viens, Kristopher, laisse-moi t'enlacer,”_ Adam murmured, repeating himself in English when Kristopher shot him a look. “Come, Kristopher.... Let me hold you.”

  
 

Kristopher wiggled in his lap, trying to inch away from his body, but Adam only tightened his arms around the smaller man's waist, smiling against his temple.

  
 

“You fight me with much less fire, now, _mon amour,”_ Adam murmured, voice warm. “My cheek still burns from the slap you dealt me that first day.”

  
 

“There's no point in fighting anymore; your bull-headed persistence is unmatched,” Kristopher shot back, and Adam only smiled, pressing a kiss to the dip of his shoulder.

  
 

“You have a sharp tongue, my love,” Adam laughed, lips trailing leisurely up his neck. “If I thought you meant it, I would have to be quite offended.”

  
 

“Of course I mean it,” Kris insisted, crossing his arms. “You Frenchmen are all the same.”

  
 

“What, devastatingly handsome and charming?” Adam replied, smiling into his shoulder when Kris smacked him.

  
 

“I was going to say _arrogant,”_ Kris said, “but that just about made my point for me.”

  
 

Adam chuckled, dragging his lips across his jawline. “Well, I didn't much fancy London, so I suppose we're even. So, if I may propose a compromise—you deal with being in Paris, and I'll deal with your awful temperament.”

  
 

“ _My_ bad temperament,” Kris repeated, with an incredulous laugh, eyelashes fluttering the smallest bit as Adam sucked idly at his throat. “You're lucky I honored your little bet, instead of heading off for home on foot!”

  
 

“Honor it you did,” Adam said, pressing a kiss to the curve of Kristopher's jaw. He paused, then, mouth lingering at his ear.

  
 

“Ah, Kristopher.... You can deny what you feel,” he murmured, “but I know how your body reacts to me.”

  
 

He emphasized his words by rubbing a hand softly down Kristopher's chest, his nipples hardening beneath his fingertips. 

  
 

Kristopher whimpered in the back of his throat at the surprise sensation, and Adam moaned a little, taking his chin between his fingertips and half-turning him. Adam trapped the smaller man's bottom lip between his teeth, lightly sucking at it, and Kristopher shuddered, eyes squeezing shut.

  
 

And the most potent part was, Kristopher knew that Adam was right—his mind was telling him no, over and over again, while his body yearned to submit to the long arms wrapped around his waist.

  
 

Adam's hand moved to lay on his belly, before slipping lower, fingertips dipping far enough into the other man's breeches to feel the wiry hair lining his pelvis. He pulled his hand out, then, before curving it over the V of his groin, caressing the most intimate part of him.

  
 

Kristopher gasped and panted, eyes falling shut as the flesh between his legs hardened traitorously in reply. His legs fell apart before he could reign in his reaction, exposing himself to the slow pressure of Adam's hand. Then, something was slipping down his breeches again, and Kristopher started, pulling away.

  
 

“A-Adam!” Kristopher gasped, eyes snapping open. “D-Don't.”

  
 

Adam sighed, then, burying his face against his shoulder. 

  
 

“I know I am too forward,” Adam murmured, into the blue silk of his jacket. “You would think my constant apologies would be enough to break the chain of repetition here. But you.... You must know I only wish to please you. Being with you like this.... All I can think of is making love to you until you just break apart beneath me.”

  
 

He paused, nuzzling against the side of his neck. “All I'm asking for is one night to pleasure you. _Tu est mon monde._..You are precious to me, darling.”

  
 

Kristopher remained silent for a moment, biting at his lip and closing his eyes. His stomach was fluttering nervously, a thousand emotions boiling in his chest.

  
 

“I'm afraid,” Kristopher finally whispered, and Adam embraced him tighter, lips imprinting softly across his neck.

  
 

“There's nothing to be frightened of, my love,” Adam murmured, hands laying over Kristopher's, their fingers tangling. “Your body is hard and ready; it's only the doubts of your mind that are holding you back. You're beautiful—I'll do whatever I need to do to reassure you of that. I'll kiss you for hours—I'll stop if you ask me to. Anything, _mon amour._ Anything.”

 

“Are you sure it's not _your_ pleasure you're chasing?” Kristopher questioned, gaze unaccusatory, his tone simply earnest.

  
 

“I won't even take part in the pleasure, if you don't want me to,” Adam promised, hand lightly caressing the curve of his neck. “Yours is more than enough to satisfy me. All I want is to love you—with my hands, my mouth.” 

  
 

Kristopher's cheeks pinkened a little, and he averted his eyes, at a loss for words. He didn't know what to say to that—he didn't even know what he wanted from this man, if anything.

  
 

“I wouldn't even know...where to begin,” Kristopher blushed, and Adam captured his gaze, blue eyes soft and warm.

  
 

“I'd start here,” he murmured, sliding his hands along Kristopher's jawline and bringing their faces together. 

  
 

Kristopher sighed a little as Adam's tongue trailed along the contours of his lips, his mouth softly caressing. Adam was kissing him slowly, like a lover, a hand on his lower back pulling him closer as he tilted his face to better seal their mouths together. The sensations were intense, taking him apart piece-by-piece as something clenched low in his stomach.

  
 

Adam's hands were all over his torso as he let the heat build between them, touching his chest and the slope of his back. Kristopher was panting by the time he was released, but Adam only lowered to his neck, mouth latching onto his adam's apple.

  
 

Kristopher gasped, neck arching instinctively, and Adam nuzzled his noise against his throat, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the flesh.

  
 

“Make love with me, Kristopher,” Adam murmured, breathless from their kisses. “Right here in the grass. _Lâche prise, mon amour...._ Just let it be.”

  
 

Kristopher shuddered, then, biting his lip. His body was vibrating with arousal, nervous butterflies beating against the walls of his stomach. He felt unarguably, vividly _alive._

  
 

“Not here,” Kristopher near-whispered, looking up at him from under his long, dark eyelashes. “Let's go back.”

  
 

“You mean....?” Adam started, his eyes wide with surprise. He must have seen the answer in Kristopher's eyes, however, because he gathered him close and kissed the breath out of him, their lips already tingling and swollen.

  
 

“I'm going to take such good care of you tonight, darling,” Adam promised, helping him up and onto the horse, before jumping up himself and galloping off for home. And Kristopher just wrapped his arms around Adam's waist and laid his cheek between his shoulder blades, eyes closing as his every nerve cried out, shaking him to the core.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Adam left Abatos with the stable boy once they reached the palace, grasping at Kristopher's waist as he swung off the great stallion. His cheeks were flushed a rosy pink, and it was all Adam could do to resist the urge to lay him down in the hay bales and take him right there, their bodies writhing in the golden strands.

Soon enough, Adam was ushering Kristopher into his chambers and swiftly shutting the door behind them, silently turning the lock. He moved about the large room, lighting the lamps and drawing the curtains shut. Anticipation was sending shivers down his spine, and he finally turned to find Kristopher standing in the same spot by the door.

That damned bottom lip was caught between his teeth, his eyes wide with uncertainty as he gazed over at Adam's large four poster bed. The mattress was soft and inviting, the hangings sewn of fine, deep-red velvet, and Kristopher was eying the thing as if it might swallow him whole.

"You needn't look so terrified, _Christophe_ ," Adam softly murmured, moving behind him to wrap his arms around his waist. Kristopher was still a little stiff in his embrace, but he sighed quietly at the touches Adam ghosted across his chest.

"It's just...intimidating," Kristopher admitted, and Adam nuzzled his nose against his temple, pressing a quick kiss there.

"It doesn't have to be, darling," Adam murmured, tightening his arms a little to nestle the curves of his body in against Kristopher's. "It's only you and me tonight."

Kristopher nodded a little, a long breath spilling uncertainly from between his lips, and Adam took his hand, leading him over to sit on the edge of the bed.

Undeniable tension was building between them as the silent seconds ticked by—just the scent of Kristopher made Adam's whole body throb with longing.

Kristopher's hands were fidgeting nervously in his lap, his eyes averted, and, when he spoke, his voice was barely more than a stuttering whisper.

  
  
"I.... I don't know what to do."   
  


“There is no incorrect way to be with your partner, darling,” Adam replied. “There's not a list of steps to follow—you don't need to over think things. Just touch in whatever way feels right to you.”

  
  
  
Kristopher still looked a little unsure, despite the assurances, and Adam's face softened. He wrapped his arms delicately around Kristopher's waist, gently embracing him as they kissed. He wanted to wipe that look of anxiety off of Kristopher's face—he wanted to appease all of his fears.    
  
  


  
  
Adam was aware of the fact that his mind was throwing the word 'love' around, but that was indeed the only thing that came to mind when Kristopher was wrapped in his arms. That, and a sweet, magnetic longing that was more intense than anything he had felt before—something that sank deep into his bones and kept him hopelessly enraptured.   
  


  
  
Kristopher was very nearly shaking under the attention of Adam's supple mouth, and he innocently slipped his fingers under the fabric of Adam's jacket, fingers kneading against the lean muscle of his shoulders. Adam went with it, letting the garment slide off of his arms, before turning to drape it over the nearest chair. Kristopher blushed a little when Adam reached a hand out for his, too, and he took it off a little hesitantly, handing it over.   
  


  
  
Adam drew him in again, then, soft tongue caressing the supple curves of Kristopher's lips. Kristopher sighed a little, hands laying flat against Adam's chest, thumbs unknowingly drawing his nipples into tight peaks.   
  


“You can take it off, if you want,” Adam offered a little roughly, humming against him as wet trails of saliva joined their mouths, and Kristopher's hands stuttered, fingers fumbling with the small buttons.

  
  
Adam laid his hands over Kristopher's, halting the shaky fluttering before helping him to push the buttons through the delicate fabric. Kristopher bit his lip, their mouths still meeting in slow presses as his hands timidly slipped under the loose fabric, pushing it slowly away from his bare chest.   
  


  
  
Those trembling hands began a torturous journey across his torso, then, and Adam sucked in a breath as those callused fingertips ran absently over his nipples, drawing them into hard buds.   
  


“Is that really...pleasurable?” Kristopher questioned, a little perplexedly, and Adam nodded, capturing his lips once again and moaning a little as Kristopher curiously and deliberately repeated the motion, fingertips slowly circling the hard peaks.

“May I...?” Adam grated out, fingers fumbling restlessly with the buttons of Kristopher's shirt, and Kristopher slowly nodded, biting at his lip.

“Nnh,” Adam sighed, once he'd worked the garment open, hands slipping inside to finally feel the muscular expanse of his chest. Adam was much less delicate with the shirt than he had been with the jacket, casting it carelessly aside, too caught up in the hot planes of Kristopher's body to bother with delicacy.

  
  
Kristopher's posture gave hint to his discomfort with his body being exposed, but Adam only buried his face into his neck and covered him with kisses, fingers skipping along the corded muscles of his back. Adam was certainly a formidable man, as far as broadness of shoulder and whatnot went, but he had always held a little softness about his hips and the curves of his body, tempering the light toning to the rest of him. But Kristopher—he was different.   
  


  
  
Adam's eyes raked over the gorgeous figure on display before him, hands restless to touch—his torso was tight and toned from his work in the fields, every stretch of tanned flesh showing angled musculature. It was the same kind of form that sculptors strove to capture—one of raw, unmatched beauty. Human physique at the pinnacle of its perfection.   
  


  
  
It struck him then, just how lucky he was.   
  


  
  
Kristopher shifted a little uncomfortably under his caresses and the heat of his eyes, but soon gave in to the gentle kneading of his hands, allowing himself to be kissed again. Adam wrapped his arms around Kristopher's shoulders, drawing him forever further into his embrace, backing them into the center of the bed. Kristopher limply complied with the change in position, his legs sprawled out, weight supported against Adam's solid form.   
  


  
  
Kristopher was whimpering now, obviously overloaded with sensation, and Adam pulled back a bit, allowing him a moment to breath, his lips red and swollen with kisses. Adam was so ready to take the next step, to cast away the remaining fabric that separated them, but he could feel the barely-controlled tremors shaking Kristopher's frame under his fingertips as well.   
  


  
  
  
Adam paused, pulling a trembling Kristopher into his arms and calming him with gentle words spoken against his cheek, interspersed with small kisses.    
  
  


  
“Shhh,    
  
_  
  
  
Christophe,”    
  
  
_   
  
  
Adam murmured, running his fingers lightly through the hair at the base of his neck. “Just relax yourself for a moment. We don't have to go any further than this if you don't want to—I'll hold you like this all night, if that's what you desire.”   
  


  
  
Kristopher mumbled something imperceptible into his neck, sighing a little and snuggling closer, blush pressing hot against Adam's shoulder. Adam pressed a kiss to the top of his head, tipping his face up.   
  


“What was that, love?”

“Keep going,” Kristopher near-whispered, lip trapped between his teeth, and Adam smiled lightly, kissing his lips and savoring the feel of Kristopher opening up beneath him as he laid him gently onto his back.

  
  
Adam slowly fingered the waistband of Kris' breeches, working them open little by little, taking his cues from the way Kristopher's body arched, and the noises he made. The garment was stretched tightly across his groin, his heavy fullness straining the cloth, and Adam ran his palm over it, lightly massaging the thick stalk of his manhood.   
  


“May I look at you?” Adam asked, the soft, curling hair lining Kristopher's pelvis already on display, and Kristopher hid his face into the crook of his arm, gnawing on his abused bottom lip but nodding all the same with a little jerk of his head.

  
  
  
Adam sighed, taking hold of Kristopher's trousers and slowly working them down over his hips, Kristopher arching off the bed just enough for him to slip them off. He was bare beneath the fine silk, and Adam very nearly purred at the sight that greeted him, his own manhood growing stiffer between his thighs. He was fine and thick, curving up from the close-cropped patch of dark hair at the V of his hips. His skin looked just as soft as the silk he had been wearing a moment ago, smooth and flawless. Wetness was beading at the tip of him, and the heady scent made Adam's mind reel, intoxicated with it.    
  
  


  
  
He ran his nails lightly down the inside of Kristopher's strong thighs, watching the tendons tighten in reply as he shivered from head to toe. Kristopher's arm was still firmly planted over his eyes, however, and Adam leaned up away from his hips, freeing his own throbbing hardness in the process.   
  


“Darling,” Adam murmured, breeches still clinging to his hips, “Why won't you look at me?”

“I just can't,” Kristopher replied, a little stiffly, clenched muscles melting with a sigh as Adam nuzzled into his neck and peppered kisses across his throat.

“I understand,” he murmured, lips moving against his shoulder, his eyes falling shut with a spasm of pleasure as he settled himself down against Kristopher. “Then just feel me. Feel the way we fit together.”

  
  
A choked whimper escaped Kristopher's throat as the length of their bodies came into contact, velvet, stiff flesh meeting between their hips, a hot collision of raw nerve endings. Kristopher arched into him with a jerky motion, involuntarily, and Adam grasped at his hips, losing his carefully-crafted composure for the first time as he took his mouth with a gasp, kissing him thoroughly and deeply.   
  


  
  
When they parted, Kristopher's eyes were fogged over with kisses and the touch of their bodies, his thighs spread wide to accommodate Adam's hips. He pushed up onto his elbows, then, looking down at Adam for the first time.   
  


  
  
A delicate pink blush spread across his cheekbones, creeping down his chest as well, and he bit his lip uncertainly, eyes fixed on the flushed, proud erection thrusting out from the loose waistband of Adam's breeches. The look in his eyes gave clue to his virginity more than anything else—he stared at him with the shaky curiosity of one who has never laid eyes on another, of one who has never been touched. Kristopher hesitated, hovering with his hands near Adam's waist, and Adam kissed him again, coaxing his hands down to rest on the soft curve of his hips.   
  


“I don't know how to....” Kristopher whispered, voice low and a little bit gravelly, and Adam nibbled at his collarbone, absorbing him into his very pores, the scent of him and the soft panting of his breath.

“I'll help you,” Adam assured him, turning Kristopher's face to his and moaning a little into his mouth when Kristopher abruptly stretched out a hand, running his fingertips experimentally down his shaft.

  
  
Adam wasn't one to be broken by feather-light caresses—he had embraced men in this bed, had taken them with touches much more authoritative than those Kristopher ghosted across his hot flesh. But, all the same, the hesitant brush of those fingertips made him shudder, his nerve endings alighting one by one in a series up his spine, knotting in his stomach. Kristopher's touch faltered with uneasiness, but also with unbridled curiosity, stemming from some deep compulsion to take the opportunity that was now proffered, to experience what he had not yet experienced. Adam felt that he could almost be given to capriciousness, so deeply immersed as he was now.   
  


  
  
That thought, along with another gentle, uncertain brush to his manhood, sent Adam's eyes fluttering shut, his lips seeking his lover's yet again. Slow, melting kisses had turned to hungry, gasping ones, Kristopher still hovering, unsure of how to touch, of how to draw a reaction.   
  


  
“Let me show you,” Adam murmured, lips mouthing wetly at his throat, fingers trailing slowly down Kristopher's stomach, edging in against the dark, curling hair at the base of his manhood.    


  
  
  
He paused only a second before curling his hand around the stiff, velvety stalk curving up against Kristopher's belly, pulling back to watch his lover's startled reactions. Kristopher's eyes squeezed shut at the first contact, and he turned his face to the side, biting down on his bottom lip as Adam tightened his grip.    
  
  


  
  
The friction was dry-hot against Kristopher's delicate skin, but he arched into it nonetheless, hiding his eyes into the toned curve of his bicep as Adam slowly tugged at his hardness, twisting his palm over the flared head. The way Kristopher's legs fell open to it, his sweet voice abandoned to heavy sighs and low moans, made Adam wonder if he had ever even touched himself like this, if he had ever allowed himself to give into the pervasive nudging that drew all humans towards pleasure.   
  


  
  
But he couldn't let himself think of Kristopher lying there and stroking himself under the sheets, or this would be over far too soon. Instead, he focused on the steady stroking of his hand, feeling Kristopher grow slick beneath him, beads of moisture trickling off the flushed head. He reached for the bottle of oil resting on the bedside table, grateful that he had left it there, and even more grateful that he had bought it in the first place. He reached for it, and Kristopher's hips lurched up as soon as the pressure of his hand was gone, the muscles of his torso tautening as he arched off the pristine white sheets.   
  


  
“Adam,” Kristopher said, through a heavy exhale, brown doe eyes peeking out from their hiding place, and Adam smiled at him with a calmness he did not feel, slicking his palm with the fragrant, rose-scented oil. He settled back between Kristopher's legs, rubbing at his jutting length for a few moments, sweet, pale oil dripping from between his fingers.    


  
  
  
The expensive concoction glistened against Kristopher's satin skin, calming the rough rasp of flesh-on-flesh, and Adam had to close his eyes and exhaled roughly as he imagined, uncontrollably, what else that oil was good for. He wanted to press his fingers into the soft heat of him, to stretch him open around the questing digits and, eventually, more—but now was not the right moment.    
  
  


  
  
Kristopher was spread out in pleasure, oblivious to Adam's inner battle for composure, his hips rocking ever-so-slightly against Adam's hand, begging for more without words.   
  


“Let me see those beautiful eyes,” Adam said, nuzzling at his neck as his hand moved ever quicker across his throbbing flesh, and Kristopher choked on his next breath, turning into him, engaging him in a messy slip-slide of lips.

  
  
Adam balanced himself on one elbow, the other hand working rapidly between Kristopher's thighs as they kissed, and soon enough Kristopher was bucking beneath his ministrations, helpless moans muffled by Adam's seeking tongue.   
  


“Adam.... Wait,” Kristopher finally gasped, eyes flying open wide, and Adam immediately pulled away, posture wilting as the words fell heavily on his shoulders. Kristopher's eyebrows rose at Adam's immediate look of dejection, before he realized the implications of his request. Once he did, however, he shook his head quickly, hands reaching out.

“No.... No,” Kristopher said, wrapping his arms around Adam's waist and burying his head into his chest. His breath fanned out against Adam's skin, raising goosebumps across the delicate flesh. “I just, I just want to—”

  
“What, darling?” Adam asked, giving in to the urge to nuzzle his nose into Kristopher's hair, his scent flooding Adam's senses. He carded his fingers lightly through the strands of hair at the base of his neck, keeping him close as he waited for a response.    


  
  
They laid there entangled in their embrace for a moment, until, to his surprise, Adam felt Kris' fingers slip under the waistband of his breeches, easing them down his thighs. A blush painted Kristopher's cheeks as he let them fall, and soon they were kicked away, exiled along with the rest of their garments.   
  



	9. Chapter 9

How did he ever get here? Here, in this room, with the solid weight of this man pressing him into the soft, starched white sheets. He told himself he wouldn't let it come to this, but somehow, in the midst of hot flesh and hotter kisses, his reservations were slipping through his fingers, leaving behind nothing but sharp waves of pleasure.

 

The way Adam touched him had made his entire body clench, and far too soon he'd been clinging onto the edge of some great precipice, muscles quivering with tight desire. Even now, Adam was moving on top of him as sinuously as a great wave rolling in to break against the shore, eyes mostly closed beneath a spray of charcoal-black hair, biting his lip with tense pleasure.

 

Kristopher had removed the last barrier between them himself, and now they were bared to each other, limbs entangled as they rocked together. Adam's stiffness was pressed hotly against his inner thigh, leaving sticky trails of moisture glistening against his flesh, and Kristopher pressed up onto his elbows, catching sight of something.

 

Adam chased his lips, hungry for his kisses, but Kristopher pressed a hand to his chest, holding him back. He bit the inside of his cheek as his eyes again met the intimidating sight between Adam's thighs—his manhood jutted proudly outwards, curving up to his stomach, and Kristopher's eyebrows raised the smallest bit as the noticed the hairless angles of his pelvis.

 

He reached a hand out, curiously trailing his fingertips down the soft, smooth-shaven flesh, and Adam pressed an encouraging kiss to his head, spreading his thighs a little further.

 

“I hope it does not displease you,” Adam murmured, nibbling lightly at his earlobe, and Kristopher shook his head, words having abandoned him as he felt the satin-soft flesh. Adam's most intimate part was beautifully defined in the dim light of the oil lamp, and Kristopher marveled at looking at another man and feeling such clenching in his belly. He'd never imagined that another man's body and touches could bring out this cramping arousal from somewhere deep and primal within him, his frame trembling hard even now.

 

He closed his eyes for a moment as his hand wrapped around Adam's manhood, acclimating himself to the silken-stiff feel of him. His grip felt awkward, fumbling to move in all the right ways like Adam had done, but Adam was moaning nonetheless, mouthing avidly at his neck and sucking marks into the flesh.

 

Adam's hand descended after a moment, his fingers twining with Kristopher's, showing him how to move. Aromatic oil lingered on Adam's palm, transferring to Kristopher's and helping to ease the hot friction. Kristopher's stomach was flipping, doing nervous somersaults as he stroked Adam's excitement, quickly becoming accustomed to the motions, learning from Adam's directions as to what he liked best.

 

Adam rubbed his soft, lush lips across Kristopher's collarbones, hair tickling his cheeks, his voice grating like the crunch of horses' hooves over gravel.

 

“You learn quickly, _mon amour,”_ he smiled, “Just as I knew you would.” He pulled gently away from Kristopher's touch, however, eyes hooded and dark as a stormy sky, alight with sultry need. “But there are more ways to please a man than just with a simple motion of deft fingers.”

 

Kristopher cast him a questioning look, uncertain of what he was speaking, but Adam only continued on his wandering journey down the expanse of Kristopher's chest, fingers tracing the planes and contours of his sculpted body.

 

Adam's honey-sweet, pink lips left trailing kisses along Kristopher's sweat-slicked skin, and he paused against the puckered bud of a nipple, parting his mouth over it. Kristopher gasped, his hips thrusting uncontrollably as Adam's soft tongue emerged to flick over it, teasing the sensitive nub.

 

Kristopher's thoughts were stopped dead by the pure static shock of discovering such an easily-stimulated part of his body. He vaguely wondered how such a simple, unremarkable thing could cause his manhood to twitch between his thighs, dripping sweet beads of liquid as Adam worked his tongue over the planes of his chest.

 

Kristopher expected Adam to return to his mouth, to drown him again in his sensual kisses, but he just continued his path downwards, his lips raining kisses down onto his stomach. Kristopher's hips bucked in shock as Adam's cheek brushed against his hardness, and Adam laughed a little breathlessly, trapping his hips beneath large, kneading hands. Kristopher had never even _considered_ this, but his words of protest were lost beneath the frantic heaving of his chest as Adam rubbed his hands over his hips, just nuzzling at him.

 

Kristopher cried out, loud enough to make him blush in embarrassment, as Adam parted his lips over the flared head, sliding the heavy length into his mouth. Hopelessly strong tremblings wracked Kristopher's body, and he knotted his fists into the sheets, legs parting further as his back bowed upwards.

 

The hot, wet heat of Adam's suckling mouth was a completely foreign sensation, and Kristopher's head thrashed on the pillow, eyes squeezed shut as he bit his lip nearly to the point of bleeding. Adam rubbed his sinful lips all up and down the length of him, before taking him in again, throat contracting around his thick head.

 

And there was no warning Kristopher could give—the shaking of his body abruptly reached a crescendo as the knotted pleasure inside of him overflowed. He emptied his sweet seed into Adam's mouth, arching against the sheets as his body trembled through the shuddering throes of orgasm. His eyes threatened to roll back into his head, but he forced them open, watching his lover's soft lips coax him through it, those blue eyes softly shut.

 

Kristopher went suddenly limp, the cramping in his gut giving way to low, vibrating waves of pleasure that tingled down his spine and ran out towards his fingertips. His hair was mussed to unruliness against the pillow, his brown eyes merely slits as his heart thundered in his chest. That was his first experience with such release, and it had left him dumb to the world, clinging to the last breaking waves of pleasure.

 

Adam settled down beside him, eyes hooded and pleased, and Kristopher turned towards him, eyes catching upon all the indulgent curves of his lover, his manhood still risen stiff against his belly. Kristopher, unbelievably, felt his sated length twitch again at the sight, threatening to rise back to life.

 

Adam wrapped a hand around the back of Kristopher's neck, the other slipping around his lower back to pull him closer, kissing him surprisingly softly—he treated him gently, whispering sweet endearments again his lips.

 

“ _Mon amour... Christophe,”_ he whispered, dragging his lips across his cheek. _“Je t'aime.... Je t'aime tant.”_

 

Kristopher buried his face into Adam's shoulder, eyes tightly shut. Now that.... He knew what that meant.

 

 _I love you. I love you so much._

 

“Can you.... Would you make love to me?” Kristopher whispered, so quiet he thought Adam wouldn't catch the words, but Adam pressed a kiss to his face, running a hand slowly down his back.

 

“That's the most one man can give another, Kristopher,” he murmured, into the downy-soft brown hair at his temple. “Think of what you are asking me for.”

 

“I know what I'm asking,” Kristopher replied, arms curling around his waist. “And if that is all I have to give, I will give it.”

 

“ _Christophe,”_ Adam murmured, blue, dark-fringed eyes shimmering with emotion as he gave him another kiss, his very soul left out for inspection. Adam pulled Kristopher close, then, and their merging came as the grandfather clock sounded midnight, the hollow ringing a background to their heaving breaths.

 

~

 

Adam found sleep that night, a sleep deeper and more satisfying than any he had experienced before. He woke up at the break of dawn, but no yawn slipped from between his lips—he was perfectly rested, his entire body heavy with contentedness. Kristopher was still asleep beside him, and Adam propped himself up on his elbow, admiring the bare form reclined beside him.

 

Kristopher's eyelashes were laying heavily against his pale cheeks, his face framed by endearingly mussed brown locks of hair. Adam's eyes followed the slope of his strong shoulders, along the graceful curve of his side, down to where the wrinkled sheets were draped low about his hips. He looked like an angel fallen into his bed—his unevenly tanned skin and scattered scars from working in the fields were of no importance to Adam.

 

He didn't want to touch him, didn't want to risk waking him from his slumber, but he couldn't resist the urge to lay a hand along his jaw, thumb brushing against those dark eyelashes.

 

The memories of last night were fresh in his mind, lingering just under the surface as he looked down upon Kristopher's face. Adam had held him through his shuddering sobs the night before, until they morphed into sweet whimpers of pleasure, his back arching against the sheets and he took Adam deep inside.

 

Adam had cradled Kristopher's head and purred a stream of endearments into his ear, the French slipping off his tongue like honey. Kristopher's body had been tight and soft, encasing him in pulsing velvet warmth, and Adam shivered as he remembered how it felt to fill him up, his seed dripping down his thigh in a slick trail. He could still feel where Kristopher's legs had clung to his hips, where his hands had gripped at his hair.

 

He had laid himself bare before Adam as the clock ushered in the first of the month. Now their wager had ended, and the very game Adam had initiated had ensnared him as surely as a fly in a spider's web. He'd told Kris as much, over and over again, as they made love. _Je t'aime. Je t'aime._

 

Kristopher hadn't replied in kind, but he _had_ given Adam that piece of himself. And, more importantly, he had trusted Adam to take it.

 

Kristopher's eyes cracked open, and he tipped his head back to look at him, big eyes dark with sleep.

 

“I know you've been watching me,” he murmured, quietly. “I've been up for a long time.”

 

“Then go back to sleep _,_ ” Adam smiled, stroking a palm across his stubbled cheek. “There's no rush.”

 

Kristopher sat up despite Adam's words, however, getting to his feet. Adam watched curiously as he gathered the work clothes he had changed out of the day before, and pulled them on, eyes looking anywhere but the bed.

 

“What's the matter?” Adam asked, eyebrows creasing in concern—there was something off about the way his lover was behaving.

 

Kristopher paused for a long minute, hands twisting anxiously around each other. He bit his lip, deliberating something, but as to what, Adam did not know. He was afraid to know.

 

“I.... I want to go home,” he said, finally, brown eyes flicking up to meet Adam's for only a second. Adam had no idea of the emotion that they held—his voice was deliberately flat, held in careful control. “I want to leave...today.”

 

“But.... _Christophe,”_ Adam replied, mind barely processing what he was hearing, Kristopher's words slipping sickly against him like the touch of an unwelcome suitor. “We....”

 

“I never once...begged for your kiss,” Kristopher said, the quiet words lashing out like a knife, biting Adam to the bone. “And our agreement was clear. I want to go home.”

 

Adam knew he should argue, should say _something,_ should at the very least ask him _why,_ but Kristopher's declaration chilled him to the core. The emotion was stolen from his chest, leaving him frosted and empty. Adam knew he couldn't make him stay this time, couldn't cage the bird that was determined to fly as it would.

 

“I'll have the carriage ready in an hour,” Adam replied, voice listless, putting up a facade of formality that no longer fit them.

 

Kristopher accepted it, however, nodding once and bowing his head. He opened his mouth to say something, but whatever it was died on his lips as he turned and left, closing the door behind him.

 

~

 

Adam gazed out of his mullioned window one dragging hour later, watching as a plush carriage pulled up to the front of the palace. Getting one last glimpse of Kristopher was ultimately pointless, but still felt infinitely precious, like a dying man's last drink of water.

 

From this angle, Adam could only see the back of him as he approached the carriage, all of his belongings packed away in a simple leather bag slung across his shoulder. Adam thought he might turn and look back, might meet his eyes where he stood, but he only climbed inside, the coachman shutting the door behind him. There was no glimpse of his face to be had, and then the horses were throwing their heads back, trotting off through the gates. That carriage would take him back to James' farm, and from there, Adam had instructed he be given enough money to return to England, if he so chose.

 

Adam clutched tighter at the blue silk in his hands, tears rolling down his cheeks. This was all that had been left behind for him, and he buried his face into it, inhaling the scent that he knew would soon disappear.


	10. Chapter 10

A brisk wind blew through the gazebo, bringing with it the first chills of an impending winter. The garden had already began to lose its lush color, as the plants and trees withdrew within themselves to hold out through the upcoming months.

 

Adam didn't look around very often coming to this spot anymore—he knew that he would only be hoping to catch a glimpse of a figure digging among the roses, or hauling about his equipment, muscles bulging with the effort.

 

Adam sighed and pushed the thought from his mind, hair whipping about his temples as he looked out over the pond, the usually glassy surface quivering with the restless breeze. How equally uneasy he had been, just a few months ago. Once his lover had left, the whirlwind weeks abruptly gave way to pale emptiness, leeching the very life from the countryside. And Adam had settled into the blankness of it all with gratitude, letting the memories be wiped away by trivial affairs of the State. 

 

This was the one place where he allowed himself to remember. In this place, with the scent of dying flowers and wet earth floating in the air, his memories of that first kiss were his only company.

 

Or so he thought. Footsteps had been approaching for some time now, their impact muffled against the leaf-covered path. They had stopped now, and Adam didn't bother glancing around. It was no doubt a worker of the estate, and soon they would go about their work, leaving him be.

 

That assumption was contradicted by the soft, familiar voice that was carried to him on that relentless breeze. His hands tightened imperceptibly on the wooden railing of the gazebo at the sound, but he did not bat an eyelash.

 

“ Adam.”

 

Adam was silent for a long time, listening to the birds tittering in the trees, to the grass rustling dryly in the fields, but nothing could drown out the sound of breathing, the sound of another in his presence.

 

“ I fear to turn around,” Adam finally said, softly, tears flowing freely down his cheeks, “lest you be not more than a figment of my imagination.”

 

The moisture was stolen from his face by the wind, and he quivered as strong arms wrapped around him from behind, a cheek pressing between his shoulder blades.

 

“ Then just feel me,” that same voice whispered, echoing Adam's own words from their night together all those months ago, and Adam's shoulders shook, his hands still wrapped tightly about the railing.

 

“ You didn't even look at me the day you left,” Adam replied, his voice raw with pain, the hurt just as fresh as it had ever been. “You didn't even spare me a glance.”

 

“ Because I knew, if I had allowed myself to look,” he explained, “I wouldn't have had the will to leave.”

 

“ Then why did you in the first place?” Adam asked, nearly begging for an answer, and when the other man replied, his voice was as tender as it had been when he'd first offered Adam everything.

 

“ Because I needed to,” Kristopher answered, the words falling off his tongue, not as though they were rehearsed, but as if they had been ingrained deep inside of him. “I needed to prove to myself that what I felt was real. I'd been fighting you for so long.... Laying down and giving in was too heavy a blow to my pride, or so I thought.”

 

He paused. “I went home to England. My mother.... She remarried while I was gone. Her new husband is a landowner, wealthy enough to support them both. They sold the farm, after I told them that I wasn't interested in claiming my inheritance in England any longer.”

 

His hands roamed down Adam's tense arms, laying over his hands where they were gripping the wood, familiar calluses rough against his flesh. The next few words were nearly lost on the wind, soft as they were. 

 

“ Every moment I was gone, I was thinking of you. Who could have guessed that one day I would look upon my beloved countryside, and only be able to think of this garden, and of the man who dwells here?”

 

Adam's uncertain, desperate hope was summed up in two simple words, his fingers twining with Kristopher's on the damp wood, clinging.

 

“ You'll stay?”

 

“ Yes,” Kristopher murmured, stretching up to speak softly into his ear, pressing a kiss to the skin just beneath. “Turn and hold me. I'm sorry I've kept you waiting for so long.”

 

Adam did so, wrapping the man behind him into an embrace, a glimpse of that face setting his heart beating again. The harsh wind, hinting at a bitter winter, was no longer of any consequence. 

 

“ _ Christophe,”  _ Adam mumbled into his shoulder, carding restless fingers through his hair and pulling him closer. He would never tire of feeling him like this, of holding him tight. “I love you. _Merci_.... Thank you.”

 

Kristopher smiled up at him and replied in kind, pressing a single kiss to his lips.

 

“ _ Je t'aime.” _

 


End file.
